Does her dimpled-cheek delirium still thrill you? Or her death escalate as you try to focus, cataracts pixilating her image, static of hail in late-day snow? Do her eyes ring almonds of tender memory? Times I wrestled your camera away so you’d stand with her. Mom’s little-girl smile, head on your chest you contain her, blue-sweatered, small in your bulky leather-jacketed arms. She secretly hated your obsession. Told me so, yet smiled dutifully, willed your Kodak to break open, admit its blindness, thirsty glass eye hiding yours. These mounted prints— all you’ve had of her … Continue reading Portrait of My Father the Photographer as a Dying Man by Bobby Parrott→
Writers write. Worriers worry. I am quite adept at doing both. You know, simultaneously. I penned my first book, Close, while partaking in a seasons-long guilty-addiction to a certain TV show that featured vulnerable families receiving “therapy” from a bombastic and accusatory host, for entertainment purposes. As I watched, I worried about the struggling teens and parents having their pain exploited for ratings. So I made up Kik Marcheson and her three daughters who learn first-hand the dangers of inviting the country into a counseling session. My next novel, Best Intentions, was about medical malpractice … Continue reading Where’d The Idea For That Come From? by Erika Raskin→
for Nana Pansy “Give these to Weaver,” you said. The books that saw you through sleeplessness. “I’m done with reading.” You already knew how it ended. You were done with Who Done Its. “Give these back to Weaver.” Like a good sergeant you gave me the case, the tough one called Life after you. I’m on it, Nana, like a small dog who’s just unearthed a dinosaur’s femur. A passable conundrum, but not one you expect me to solve. We both know the pleasure’s in the chase, the day-to-day details, not the inevitable solution. We … Continue reading Last Words: Mysteries of Life by Richard Weaver→
I step outside right at sunrise when night creatures are still on the move. It’s a threshold hour, a groundhog slogs under the fence or a fawn startles, his mouth full of orange lilies. No one expects to see me, especially my neighbor’s unneutered billy goat who is standing on my gravel path. Of course I want to pet him so I miss something; the hardness of his horizontal gaze. He is challenging me. I consider myself a country woman, having stepped on a blacksnake once in my darkened living room. I shoo bears from … Continue reading Of Goats and Men by Sharon Ackerman→
On a foggy dawn like this, at the edge of the cliff, at the edge of winter when the wind is blowing through the forest, all the ice chips clattering against each other, Ian loves the pin pricking ice against his cheeks. He screams into the chasm to hear the sound eaten up by the air. Later, he’ll commute down to town and anonymous himself in front of a computer, wearing his headphones, and typing, the words losing their meaning, his caffeine ritual keeping him going, but that wild place of cliffs, wind, and fog … Continue reading Ian, Who Lives on the Mountain Overlooking the City Where He Works by John Brantingham→
I had just helped a young neighbor, much younger than me, dig an annoying stump out of his yard. We were tired and muddy, but he invited me into his house for a breather. “Have a seat,” he said, pulling out a kitchen chair. “How ‘bout a beer? I’ve got Heineken and Moosehead.” I paused. The choices were so unexpected. “Wow, my two favorite beers in the world! How can I decide?” “I can’t really tell them apart,” he said. Without waiting, he uncapped one of each and set them before me. I hoped he … Continue reading Moosehead by John Matthews→
Ty Phelps has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2023 Poetry Contest Dolphin, with Number The city stretches out beyondthe marshland, lights shiningthrough the cold, graymidwestern fog. On screen,a triptych of images of a dolphinstranded on a strip of Cape Codsand. “Smooth as polishedgranite to the touch,” readsthe caption. The dolphin isred-eyed, face shaded with blacklike a great northern bird. Crackedbeak full of serrated teeth. Someone—perhaps a ranger—has painteda number in red on the spentcreature’s side. I wonder whereit will be taken, for what purpose,and my mind floats to a friendwho’d make a “porpoise” joke—she’s … Continue reading Dolphin, with Number by Ty Phelps→
The summer before I turned fifteen I often biked with my two best friends to Chicago’s River Park, thirty acres of grass, trees, paths, playgrounds, and a swimming pool. The park was a green haven in our gritty urban neighborhood that was packed with apartment buildings, stores, factories, gas stations, warehouses, restaurants, and everything else that made Chicago livable and tense. River Park was bisected by the North Branch of the Chicago River. It was an odd looking river because it had been lined with concrete in the 1930s. It looked and often smelled like … Continue reading Under the River Bridge by Paul C. Rosenblatt→
—article title by Gwyn Wright, via swns.com …………….. …..Let me make light of the situation, travel to the nearest interstellar hotel. I don’t want to be maudlin, but I’m going to pack all my favorite mementos of mortality—a photo of my grandmother, the last slice of chocolate cake, and the only shirt that makes me look like I’ve got something going on. Believe me, I know ………….. ……..this is serious. There are lakes drying out, spitting up bodies and boats. There are fires so wild they scour towns down to foundations and loose strings of … Continue reading Scientists Say it’s Time to Prepare for Human Extinction by David B. Prather→
I got to have it (just a little bit) A little respect (just a little bit). Otis Redding, as sung by Aretha Franklin As Memorial Day approaches and graduation season is in full tilt, there will be many inspiring speeches: some will have a few humorous lines thank goodness, some will be overloaded with platitudes and sound bites, a few with creative insight in reading our times accurately. A rare few may have prognostications which are useful, inspiring, and come to pass. One meaningful and heartwarming event, though perhaps not unique, … Continue reading To Solve America by Fred Wilbur→
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