Nothing changes after the year we spend our Sunday mornings offering tea to the homeless in the shadow of the Mission, you know, fashion philanthropy. No paradise, no floats in the parade, no graphs moving up or down. We still wake up to the same mornings, our hungry souls staring at their hungry souls staring at our breakfasts through the television set. The last time I looked the world doesn’t operate according to serving tea on Sundays. It just keeps turning and spitting out more sadness, and we stick around for those few occasions when … Continue reading I tell my wife we are all drawn to sadness by Casey Killingsworth→
I took the cheeseburger out of the bag and started eating it while I walked to my car. Harold was in the parking lot. They were beating his ass again. Chuck and Dave and Brian and maybe Roger and Rick were there too. Harold crouched in the circle, his twiggy arms over his head. Reuben, Chuck called. Give this thing a kick. I gave him a good kick. He was like a bag of mulch with some air stuck in it. I gave Chuck a thumb’s up and finished my burger in my car. … Continue reading Spring Gables Wolf Attack by Andrew Friedman→
The last thing I drank was clear. The number of times I’ve had to repeat this reproduces, every anesthesiologist preparing for vomit, I guess. My apologies — I did not mean to spit that out, start your day with such a gross sort of showering, you alongside me, half naked on a frigid table, foaming like a geyser’s mouth. I meant to say something more profound, poetic, give you a peaceful tributary of words, a transparent shallow that, if you sit still in it long enough, you hardly feel anything but weightless. Yet everything known … Continue reading Prep work by Katherine Gotthardt→
how do i fit a city into a suitcase and how do i fit the feeling of waking with the sunrise or not sleeping until the stars blur how do i fit the scent of a rose peeking through cracks of concrete, fragrant plumeria blossoms lining streets, the comfort of seeing rows of olive trees little dots on a hill, or being surrounded by mountains wiser and older than all who inhabit their foothills how do i fit a city into a suitcase? the quiet nods as greetings of friendly hello when spoken languages don’t … Continue reading fitting places into a suitcase by Hibbah Haddam→
Last night the dreams poured in through the window. The plants, brought in for the first threat of freeze, let them rest and take stock on their last leaves. The dreams— knowing so much— didn’t know where to enter when I taped my mouth shut. And then they just became me, and I became the window, which amounted to nothing but seeing. I woke up in the back of my head and my understanding of the size of the sky turned purple, pink, and apricot. I think my place on this earth is in my … Continue reading Knowing and Oh My, 2 poems by Julia Falcinelli→
Christine Wilcox is the 3rd place winner of Streetlight‘s 2026 Essay/Memoir Contest She slips into Mass during the processional, as if she’s part of it. But she’s on the left aisle, not the center, where the incense trails the short, skinny acolyte like a contrail, briefly enshrouding Father Johnny Johnson. For a moment he looks like something. She keeps pace with the thurifer, then sidesteps right into a pew about seven back. The first thing you notice about her is the Santa hat. Campy red velour, with the white trim, and the snowball tassel, too. But, to … Continue reading Flare, Strobe, Pulse by Jeffrey Kane→
Our touring barge plows south through Mekong waters soon to arrive in the Delta. It’s been years, yet the names of these places are still familiar. Glossary of napalm and agent orange, of families fleeing, of death. I stand on deck and see a peaceful land, little battered boats, hut homes, rice-carrying hoys, their painted eyes alert for evil spirits. Everywhere in the brown current, islands of hyacinths float — invasive spread of jade leaves, plum blooms and unseen roots that hang in the water and thrive. Close by a flat boat drifts, nets piled … Continue reading Unseen Roots by Martha Snell→
Another Medicare commercial came on TV. It was getting to be time for bed. Brad knew that if he didn’t turn off the television and get out of his recliner it would be midnight again before he got under the covers with Julia. He could have been in bed by now if he had gotten a wink and a smile from her as she went up to bed, but she gave no hints there would be romance. That part of their relationship was trending downward. They still got along fine, but more like … Continue reading He Died In Her Sleep Peter Wallace→
I don’t blame my body for its language, for keeping its sacredness secure with words, its spleen tagging towards holiness and eternity, since I don’t seem to understand its nature, or why it mistakes my joys for sorrow, my pains for happiness, my tedium for freedom. I have kept the momentum of my dreams, but my body betrays me each time I reach out to have a sensible conversation about our future. It’s not too hard to make up with your enemies, except that sometimes they open the wounds from which you struggled to escape … Continue reading The Language of My Body by Chibuike Ukah→
I, who have never known love like this for my kinfolk in a burning world I’m tired of loneliness rewiring this brain, tired of wasting time waiting for the skies to clear, waiting for a turn, waiting for the urge to pass. Here, let me share this bread I baked, this salt, this god only a body can understand, I love you, here is a cup of tea, your coffee with maple syrup, the way you like it I love you, I made you soup, hungry for a kind of closeness like wilderness of hair … Continue reading This year is forecast four winters and I can’t save the burning world by Andreea Ceplinschi→
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