—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→
John Beck has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2023 Poetry Contest The Driver In 1925, Pius XI made you, St. Frances, the patron of all car drivers. I am sure the Pope could not have imagined the enormity of the job he had given you. It is your heavenly mission to make my job easier. Every night that I drive for Uber and Lyft, please watch over the pedestrians who try to die on my bumper and save their unworthy souls. Please bless me when I am without space between cars as I move … Continue reading The Driver by John Beck→
As I marked another donation box I’d filled with my son’s trach supplies, the doorbell rang. Two men in identical ball caps and polo shirts smiled at me from the front steps when I opened the door. The shorter of the two, handsome and well-built, gestured with a clipboard and said, “Afternoon. My name’s Lance. How’s your day going so far?” I shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” “Good.” He nodded. “That’s good. Beautiful afternoon, beautiful neighborhood. And we have a beautiful opportunity that folks like you lucky enough to live here qualify for. Won’t be … Continue reading Flowers by William Cass→
Joan Mazza has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2023 Poetry Contest We Left My Father and Sister at Home Because my mother didn’t drive, we took the bus to Winsted, Connecticut. Two of us alone to visit cousins on the Nicosia side of the family. They’d named a cow Josephine, after my grandmother, who took it as a compliment. That summer I was fourteen and fell in love with the scent of hay, adored by the kitten who lived under the house, and cousin Mike. Zio Nicosia, too old to drive the tractor, taught … Continue reading We Left My Father and Sister at Home by Joan Mazza→
Studio City, November, 2016 Had a great time going back home for Thanksgiving. Everyone was there—Mom, Dad, my Sister, our championship horse Spencer. My room is basically the same except Mom moved all my water polo trophies to the living room. But then on my bed I find a first place ribbon from the Getty Center Rising Artist Contest! “I found that coffee mug you painted in third grade ceramics class,” said Mom. “The one with the dinosaurs on it. I thought it was so good I decided to submit it on your behalf!” And … Continue reading My Inspiring Journey by Sean Nishi→
Joyce Compton Brown is the 3rd place winner of Streetlight‘s 2023 Poetry Contest Apology for Ralph’s Mule …and before them went the mules: and ever upward, downward, sideward, and aslant they fared. The Iliad II.23.93 You stood there in mud and dung, your little streetside lot hardly big enough for a good stretch, a kick. I’d stop sometimes, Ralph’s Mule, think about the muck on your hooves, how it must feel, you standing in the mud, mired in that nasty mess. I never knew your name. Your … Continue reading Apology for Ralph’s Mule by Joyce Compton Brown→
How do you knock on a door that, all your life, you imagined opening? I stood at a fateful address on the edge of the historic district of Old Cloverdale, in Montgomery Alabama. I had never been to Alabama before and until now, had only one important contact here—Harper Lee. Before my first memoir was published, Harper Lee had read it and written to me, “A beautiful story I shall cherish for years to come.” I was thrilled, of course, but still uncertain— what was my story? Ever since I could speak I had searched … Continue reading My Father Unknown by Laura Shaine→
Patricia Hemminger is the 2nd place winner of Streetlight’s 2023 Poetry Contest Considering My Last Carbon Footprint New York Governor Legalizes Human Composting, ⎯The Guardian, January 23, 2023 I’ve been composting for years. It’s very satisfying, potato peels, broccoli stalks, tumbled with dried leaves decompose, enrich the garden soil each spring. I wonder whether to make a will that requests my family do the same with me cocoon my body in wood chips and straw for a month or more. It’s legal now and carbon neutral when sun powers the rotation. They could plant a tree … Continue reading Considering My Last Carbon Footprint by Patricia Hemminger→
Lucy and Henry are not an unusual couple. They forgive slights, hold some grudges, and share hilarity at mispronunciations, bad teeth, and their small mixed terrier French Fry. Average looking, they are both youthful for fifty, dedicated runners, and occasional eaters of ice cream. When their daughter Olive was born, they were smitten, and keen to keep to their small family unit. As an accountant Henry quantified Olive’s every childhood achievement. June, a florist, had strong opinions on how their daughter mixed colorful outfits. Both considered themselves Olive’s most important people. But as Olive … Continue reading Transference by MaryLewis Meador→
Linda Parsons is the 1st place winner of Streetlight‘s 2023 Poetry Contest Digging Dirt peppers the sink as I roll palm to palm these golds heaved from the ground with heft and pitchfork, this egglike clutch for soup, stew, hash, roasted, smashed in fall’s coming. I roll them lightly, thin skinned, perfect and misshapen, knobby knuckled. Dirt becomes dust filming my hands I am loath to wash, for here in the grit of new potatoes I am one with the garden, back bent, salt sweat, my own stew of becoming. And I think what else I’ve … Continue reading Digging by Linda Parsons→
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