After lunch, Donald’s art dealer, Regina Slabokoff, entered his office in a state of agitated grace. Donald’s office had a style—a Mojo style—created by the great man himself. Mojo believed in comfort and security, and for Donald he had designed a desk in which his client could sit in its middle, as though in the center of a round doughnut. By pressing a button, foam panels rose and enveloped the sitter who then had the feeling of being back in the womb. It could also be used as a couch for afternoon siestas, thus eliminating … Continue reading The Art of the Dealer by Eric Lande→
One mile into my daily jog, New Yorker poetry podcast in my ear, hoping for insights and hardware to Sherpa me up poetic Himalayas, and Mary Karr is reading Terrence Hayes’ Ars Poetica with Bacon, which leads her and host Paul Muldoon, to a number of salutary comments on rashers, including Mary’s confession that she never ever passes up bacon, and that given our genetic proximity to Sus scrofa, eating bacon is a form of Eucharistal sacrament, although as a Jew I’m thrown a bit by the host’s claim, though both Mary and Paul are … Continue reading Ars Poetica, Forbidden Fruit by Gary Grossman→
I’m sweeping up a pile of sand from the hardwood floor. It’s everywhere. Under each throw mat and area rug. In the corners of the room and hiding beneath the wicker chair nearest the front door. In the folds of the couch and the crevice of the doorjamb. As I sweep, I begin to gently cry. Big fat tears hitting my cheeks, rolling down my collarbone. I’m taken aback. The spool of emotion wound tightly inside of my chest unfurling. My mind is a carousel of slides from this summer and those before it. Sunburns … Continue reading Stolen Summers by Lauren Dunn→
The annual contest is a big event here at Streetlight‘s essay/memoir section. We never know what our invitation is going to bring, but it’s always interesting. This year we’ve been especially fortunate. Our first prize winner is Christopher Ghattas. His brilliant essay, “Final Thoughts,” is at once a narrative, a reaction, and a meditation, full of sharp wisdom and surprising humor. Our second prize winner, Ruth Knesevich, takes her inspiration “From a Persian Kitchen.” In an essay both culinary and emotional, she brings us the essence of a rich culture. It’s a culinary delight. Third … Continue reading We Have Winning Essays by Susan Shafarzek→
As if to be human is to seek the warmth of another body, ……………………………………………..skin and the course of blood beneath The blood beneath the skin of a city street, how it gives back ……………………………………………..the heat when dusk untethers from the sun’s radiant reach The radiant reach of the heat rising from the skin of the street ……………………………………………..as would any figure of lonely drift and form A form that you meet in the shape of its heat ……………………………………………..and carry into the cool clime of dawn. Ken Holland has been widely published in literary journals and nominated … Continue reading The Radiant Reach of Heat by Ken Holland→
What is the color of irony? This may be a silly notion, but we have given color designations to various kinds of writing. Yellow Journalism (today’s Clickbait) was a term given to (mostly) eye-catching newspaper headlines and sensationally exaggerated stories. Purple Prose describes overly ornate or elaborate writing which draws attention to itself by excessive use of adjectives, adverbs, and contorted metaphors to the detriment of the message. Blue Prose is writing of a decidedly vulgar nature relying on overly sexual suggestion. But there are some positive colors as well! They may not be as … Continue reading Our Age of Irony by Fred Wilbur→
If you can fit the beauty in your mouth what makes you brave, to spit it out or to let the giver of gifts see you make it yours forever? I’m not afraid of disappearing, but Emily shows me all the time that when I make an offer she will accept it until one of us has empty hands extended & the other counts lips as a promise to the bloom. Darren Demaree’s poems have appeared, or are scheduled to appear, in numerous magazines/journals, including Hotel Amerika, Diode, North American Review, New Letters, Diagram, and … Continue reading Emily as She Ate the Flower by Darren Demaree→
I am leery of ancestor worship, but the more I research the history of my great-great grandfather, Asa Fowler, the more I find admirable about him. He was born the youngest of a dozen children on a farm in Pembroke, N.H. in the year 1811. A sickly boy, he was only able to do light farm work, and it was determined early on that he should become a teacher. So, he was sent to the local academy in Pembroke, where he turned out to be an excellent student. After leaving the academy, Asa went to … Continue reading Asa Fowler by Miles Fowler→
he texts me a photograph of the bear scat he found under the chokecherry bush which is bent to the ground stripped on one side of all its red berries but a black bear in our civilized back yard does it mean drought in the foothills does it mean boredom and the need for adventure does it mean the smell of those little red berries can travel for miles or does it mean apocalypse who can say perhaps it means we aren’t alone here perhaps it means we need to clear the vines from the … Continue reading My Husband Texting by Maureen Clark→
Quincy Gray McMichael has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2024 Essay/Memoir Contest As I stretch my shoulders, arms aloft, the Monongahela Forest yawns through a narrow split in the trees. Across the road from where I sit, the tranquil understory draws my eye past the weathered porch railing, my ever-growing grass, baby blueberries, high-tensile farm fence, and the last lilac bush. I spot a fiery flash among the scrub and shadows, a thin flag of tabby-tail above the green. Shredder, the orange cat, shoots from the underbrush and across the gravel—a one-lane road … Continue reading Cicadian Rhythm by Quincy Gray McMichael→
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