Desert Desperado by Cara Marinucci


 

Desert Desperado “Sometimes a person has to go a very long distance out of his way to come back a short distance correctly.” —Edward Albee What I wanted was a resurrection of love a love bearing all the gravity of one’s lifetime What I remember is being dead for all purposes the glint in my eye a sore memory of hope and regret Nothing else visits my imagination at this time the heavy smell of urine transforms any moment into being 28 and caught way beyond redemption strung out two nights in a squalid concrete … Continue reading Desert Desperado by Cara Marinucci

Phoenix by Juditha Dowd


 

“So, what do you think?” said Don. He’d hoped Alison might bring it up this time but she was staring out the big windows toward the marina, one of several on Venice Island where they were staying. He followed her gaze to anchored boats bobbing in the onshore breeze. Alison came to, shifted her attention back to him. “I guess that little Cape had possibilities.” She took another sip of the Sangiovese the waiter recommended, surprisingly good for such a well-priced wine. “Cape?” Don wasn’t versed in architectural styles. Curb appeal, price point—this was language … Continue reading Phoenix by Juditha Dowd

On the Move: Art by Stacey Evans

Skyline, New York, Fall 2011
 

  Growing up in Waynesboro, Virginia, a small town which photographer Stacey Evans describes as a mix of rural, urban, industrial and suburban landscapes, she remembers watching trains speed by and wondering, “’Where are they going?’ I wanted to go there too. Even now whenever I hear the train, there’s the mystery and romance of going somewhere.” In her late 20s, Evans started riding trains South and North to visit family and friends, and en route, noticed with increasing interest, the variation in the land. “I was really mesmerized by the changing landscape — the … Continue reading On the Move: Art by Stacey Evans

Breathing Room by Deborah McLeod


 

After four years on Charlottesville’s downtown mall, Chroma Projects is vacating our beautiful space. We are sadly closing our heavy glass doors at the end of January, and for the foreseeable future the gallery will take refuge in cyberspace, waiting until it becomes clear how to continue to work on behalf of the area art scene. In starting up the gallery, I hoped to illustrate through curation and thoughtful installation, my belief that art needs breathing room to be fully enjoyed, and everyone needs art to breathe and enjoy. It’s such a weary old chestnut … Continue reading Breathing Room by Deborah McLeod

The Yellow House by Judy Longley

tiger swallowtail butterfly
 

Sleep bears me to the farmhouse slanted on a steep hill, commanding the highway below. Yellow clapboard and fieldstone constructed after the Civil War, the first floor a single room of stone, fireplace centering it. I warm my hands at the stone hearth—a rosemary bush flames silver-blue tongues, new stems uncoiling as fast as they burn. Through pungent smoke shades appear: my children young again, interrupted in their play, John, my professor husband with his eternal scatter of books, friends, just passing through and the ghost we all tolerated. A woman we agreed, wearing white … Continue reading The Yellow House by Judy Longley

Author Juditha Dowd Interview

Juditha Dowd at desk
 

SL:  Congratulations on the publication of your short story, “Phoenix” in Streetlight’s upcoming Winter Issue.  When did you start writing or realize that you were a writer? JD:   I remember that when I was eight years old and in the 3rd grade I wrote a poem, but I was writing down words as soon as I could read. I felt that words held magic. In the 5th grade I was writing stories. I liked to write stories about large families so I could name all the children. I loved names. I’d write stories with families … Continue reading Author Juditha Dowd Interview

Speak Memory, But Not Too Much


 

Here at Streetlight, our favorite nonfiction is the personal essay and after reading some recent submissions, I’ve been thinking about my own family stories. One of my favorites is one that didn’t happen to me, but to my mother when she was a child. It’s a story I heard several times and always was amused by – but, I notice, differently as time goes by. The story could be told with this caption: “The Day My Mother Got Kissed by Warren G. Harding,” and it’s as short a story, as the events it features. The … Continue reading Speak Memory, But Not Too Much

Mentors of the Peace


 

By Kanta Bosniak “Herein lies the real hope for our future. We are moving toward the ultimate destiny of our species—a state of compassion and love.” – Jane Goodall “Peace can only come as a natural consequence of universal enlightenment.” –Nikola Tesla “We use our gifts to bring people together.”–Babtaunde Olatunji Over a period of twelve years, I painted a series of sixty Contemporary Folk Art portraits that I use as teaching tools and which I exhibit in universities and other educational settings. The Center for Peace Studies and Violence Prevention at Virginia Tech is … Continue reading Mentors of the Peace

Work Meets Play


 

A friend and co-worker, Caroline Eberly, shares her essay about mixing labor and leisure. This piece first appeared on Story Matters, the digital expression of Journey Group, a Charlottesville creative agency. [divider] Work Meets Play: An invitation to turn up my senses.   Looking out the window at this wide, dried-out wilderness, I have sympathy for the desert-crossers who have gone before me. The wayfaring types who pushed sand with feet to cover this bare country. Just minutes before, I’d been considering the people of the future — those beings who might live in these shiny, … Continue reading Work Meets Play

Christmas Chaos


 

Leaving for L.A the day after tomorrow and realize I have not rented a car, wrapped presents, packed for California chill and sun, booked a motel for the road trip up the coast, or logged my students exam grades, nor scribbled notes for my house-sitter, arriving tomorrow. The clothes in my dresser drawers (spanning decades) are packed so tightly I am unable to dig past the tangled surface to even guess what archeological layers lie below. I fling everything out and now, panicked, realize there’s not enough time to thoughtfully sort and neatly fold, and … Continue reading Christmas Chaos

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