A Taxonomy of Lists by Fred Wilbur

Photo of note pad, holder, and pencil
 

    As a youngster, I watched my father slice out-of-date reports whose 8 1/2 x 11″ sheets had blank back sides; the pivoting knife of the paper cutter with its own whoosh sound, produced 3 x 5″ slips. He warned me to mind my fingers.  He made a little box with half cover in his basement shop to hold the repurposed pages. My mother then painted flowers on it to marry the artistic to the practical. This box resides on my telephone table in the back hall, quaint along side our landline and answering … Continue reading A Taxonomy of Lists by Fred Wilbur

New Works by Rachel Coyne


 

  My goal in approaching each new painting is to create something both pretty and uncomfortable. The colors and compositions—largely focused on nature—are traditional bubble gum fare that is pleasing to the eye. But then there are too many eyeballs. Is the painting watching the viewer? Why?     I mean for the experience to be at least slightly unsettling. If you don’t look too closely, you might think—“well that might be pretty to hang above my couch.”  But then you do look closely and decide, maybe not (depending on your social circle). My own … Continue reading New Works by Rachel Coyne

The Piñata by Dana Robbins

Photo of brightly colored fringes
 

  It was my granddaughter’s fourth birthday party. I, old lady with cane, was sitting in the shade on the side, then made my way cautiously to watch the children hit the piñata with a plastic bat. (In my support group for survivors of sexual abuse, one man told of being hung and whacked just like that; he had black circles under his eyes from never sleeping.) The first few hits yielded no shower of candy and toys. The kids tried again, whacking harder and harder, even the littlest, while the adults yelled raucous encouragement. … Continue reading The Piñata by Dana Robbins

Photographs by Steve Patterson

Photo of victorian house
 

                      Though many photographers have influenced me, the top three are Edward Weston, Richard Misrach, and Joel Meyerowitz. Besides his masterful compositions and tones, Weston taught me that simple reality is never simple. Misrach’s desolate but gorgeous images deepened my appreciation of color, even when shooting objects not normally considered photogenic. Meyerowitz’s Cape Light photographs most influence my current work, leading me to search for images that utilize pure colors to suggest stories, moods or memories. One Meyerowitz picture, taken around dusk, haunts me: an … Continue reading Photographs by Steve Patterson

Antonyms for “Affluence” and How to Buy an Antique Picture Frame, 2 poems by Glen Armstrong

Photo of lots of picture frames
 

Antonyms for “Affluence” It is a myth that mice are impossible to eat. I see my tuxedo on another man, a groom or musician. It is a myth that the bride will be thinking about Queen Victoria or the General Washington. It is a myth that I will get fat doing this. As a child, I knew I would marry Gretel, and we would never sleep soundly. I understood that the witch’s candy house wasn’t real, but the children’s hunger was. How to Buy an Antique Picture Frame Sometimes you have to drive …..hundreds of … Continue reading Antonyms for “Affluence” and How to Buy an Antique Picture Frame, 2 poems by Glen Armstrong

The Eyes of an Editor by Erika Raskin

Photo of parking garage sign
 

I recently accepted a beautiful piece of writing by an author who wrote back to thank me — and to graciously say he’s open to feedback—which was a lovely, appreciated response. Writers have been known to bristle at suggestions. I can’t remember the exact details but there’s a literary legend about an editor getting punched in the nose at a cocktail party over the unauthorized insertion of an Oxford comma. I, on the other hand, am a firm believer in the benefits of a second pair of eyes. On pretty much everything. Bathing suit selection, … Continue reading The Eyes of an Editor by Erika Raskin

I Want to Give Him a Chance by Sara Biel

Photo of woman, facing camera, taking a picture
 

Sara Biel has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2021 Poetry Contest I Want to Give Him a Chance Her voice is thin, scrapes and rolls, a dry leaf across the sidewalk. My fingers grip the phone, heart a bird in my throat. “He loves me,” she says “I want to give him a chance.” Her thoughts a murmuration, fear and hope lost together. My fingers grip the phone, heart a bird in my throat. The sun ducks behind the cover of the sinking city. “He said he loves me” her voice a startled hover … Continue reading I Want to Give Him a Chance by Sara Biel

Clutter by Trudy Hale

Photo of stack of letters and papers
 

When my late husband set out to write his memoir he purchased Life As Story, by Tristine Rainer. He studied the book’s exercises and wrote in the margins. I want to read his annotations again. Feel the swoop of his pen; reacquaint myself with his responses to the memoir exercises. I have a distinct recollection of black ink on a cream page. Whole sentences, paragraphs filling the margins. I pull the book from my shelf and peer inside. There are none of the annotations I remembered. Instead, a few underlines and a small circle within … Continue reading Clutter by Trudy Hale

Then We had Ice Cream by Isabel Wolf Frischman

Photo of black man on bench that says "Whites Only"
 

In the summer of 1967, the year of my high school graduation, the Newark, N.J.-adjacent town of Plainfield, where I grew up, exploded with race riots. I was in Washington, D.C. when it happened, working as a G-2 clerk-typist for the U.S. Post Office. I didn’t witness the events in my hometown, where an incident in a diner escalated into full-blown violence in reaction to police brutality against people of color. Fifty-one years later, as an officer handcuffed me for attempting to drape the crown of Queen Isabella of Spain with a foot-square piece of … Continue reading Then We had Ice Cream by Isabel Wolf Frischman

Mourning Doves by Nate Jacob

Photo of dove on branch
 

Nate Jacob has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2021 Poetry Contest Mourning Doves Looking back, the choice seems obvious. A man is given the chance in life= to select from a pantheon of plumed angels which will carry his tune forever on winds. My father, from what I can only imagine was a young age, took to mimicking the mourning dove with two gentle hands cupped just so together and a breath gently pressed from pursed lips: two poofs, he blew . . . and blew . . . and blew He taught that … Continue reading Mourning Doves by Nate Jacob

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