To Be a New Yorker by Elizabeth Meade Howard
The train whistle trumpets its warning. I watch the woods, meadows and marshland slowly morph into urban views and city skylines. Washington. Baltimore. Philadelphia. Newark. New York will be next. The best of memories surface as I approach Manhattan, the captivating city for which I feel a claim and abiding affection. What, I wonder, does it take to be considered a New Yorker. My first memories of the city date from the 1940s, a formative time and closeness to my parents. We lived on Seventeenth Street near Stuyvesant Park where my mother took me … Continue reading To Be a New Yorker by Elizabeth Meade Howard
To See the Universe in Cinderblock by Alex Joyner
With all due respect, Mr. William Carlos Williams, it’s not the red wheelbarrow on which so much depends. It’s the cinder block car wash glazed with rainbow foam beside the Handlebar Grill in Great Bend, Kansas. I’ve seen it in the setting sun as I watched Red River Valley clay, carried up from Texas, make runnels off my rented pickup. You don’t go having mystical experiences in Kansas. At least that’s what I’d heard. What was it Dorothy said when she opened the Technicolor door? “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” By which … Continue reading To See the Universe in Cinderblock by Alex Joyner
Poetry Contest Winners for 2025 by Sharon Ackerman and Fred Wilbur
We are excited to announce the Streetlight Poetry Contest winners for this year. But first, several observations: we are pleased with your response of 106 entries comprising 290 poems. As we have previously noted, all poems are read by each of us independently. Then, through consultation and often multiple re-readings, we arrive at the most poignant and well-crafted poems. But we also want to emphasize that, being poets ourselves, we recognize and appreciate the creative effort of each entrant and in a sense, each poem. We want to encourage each of you to persevere … Continue reading Poetry Contest Winners for 2025 by Sharon Ackerman and Fred Wilbur
Avocado by Christopher Dungey
In the century most recently expired, pigments to suggest certain fruits and vegetables were infused into the metal of appliances, plastic tableware, canisters for sugar and flour, even the weave in carpet fibers. These were part of a concurrent affronts to taste including deleted expletives of Presidents, the Fonz scowling at a juke box, gas lines, fear of toilet paper shortages. Then that ancient ‘fridge began leaking coolants. You could have bought new seals, a refill of freon, but there was a virgin Master Card for such crises. The clearance floor model was the only … Continue reading Avocado by Christopher Dungey
The Photographs of Rachel Turney
Rachel Turney has traveled the world with curiosity and a camera. It all began in childhood. “I started taking pictures of houses in my Midwest neighborhood when I was in grade school. I was very interested in architecture. Patterns have always intrigued me. Shutters on brick, the placement of windows, the varying colors of paint. “I also spent a lot of time as a child with stacks of National Geographics at my grandparents’ house. My grandparents were big travelers and I loved to look at their photographs and old slide shows. I think the … Continue reading The Photographs of Rachel Turney
Framework by Susan Shea
I pattern through my day first thing, I walk across the green geometry of my rug telling myself I will stay on course, breathe rhythmically coffee myself up to start up my inner waves of can-do coming and going through tasks written on my straight-line list repeat my regularities shower myself with adulthood stand among the trees living above underground networks feel their energy, take in the reliabilities of exchange somewhat ready for small differences and changes in the flow and spiraling of conversations with the known and the unknown who may try to sprinkle … Continue reading Framework by Susan Shea
What Would Shakespeare Do? by Fiona M. Jones
What do you do when something ought to be a word but isn’t yet? You’re typing in something you’ve written, and a little red line appears under it. You’re supposed to humbly backspace and obediently type something else instead, because the robots are always right. Let’s say you’re writing about the sensory experience of walking on damp sand. You’re writing from the POV of an autistic child, so you need precision. “Grittiness” isn’t quite right; “powderiness” is way off. It’s not a static “roughness”, or a “crunch” exactly. “Grind” carries the wrong connotation, and even … Continue reading What Would Shakespeare Do? by Fiona M. Jones
Thinking of Queen Elizabeth While Waiting for My Son at Dance Class and The Solitary Mare, 2 poems by Sarah Lilius
Thinking of Queen Elizabeth While Waiting for My Son at Dance Class The Queen’s body, enclosed in leadand English Oak, shifts forward for six hours. The waiting room, coffin of tired fabric,dance moms hold up their faces, hand bone effort. Children scurry, glass door handprints,sippy cups on tile, they escape like squirrels. Young mammals shimmer up oak treesby the road, plastic saws, hammers to pretend. Construction of her majesty’s casket lasteddecades, preparation for her death, a great British novel. In my town, dying is about which manufacturedbox is affordable. Elizabeth, a new mother to this … Continue reading Thinking of Queen Elizabeth While Waiting for My Son at Dance Class and The Solitary Mare, 2 poems by Sarah Lilius
Aritifice or Intelligence by E. H. Jacobs
So, I found myself in a restaurant with my wife, two friends, and one friend’s first cousin whom I had not previously met. After drinks and appetizers, the cousin, a well-educated, intelligent, funny, and charming lawyer and real estate investor, learned that I had recently published a novel and was in the process of editing a second for publication. After hearing that each novel had taken me about ten years to write, edit and find a publisher, he proposed that, to produce more in a shorter period of time, I upload my writings into an … Continue reading Aritifice or Intelligence by E. H. Jacobs
Portrait with Amulets by Alison Hicks
I wore a turquoise donkey bead on a thong around my neck— choker, bead and knot resting in the space between collarbones. Glass eye facing outward from my wrist pupil of deep blue defending against malevolence that wandered high school halls. Perhaps forgetting to say “Rabbit Rabbits” before opening eyes on the first day of the month explained everything. I have a fitness tracker clipped to my shirt as if I could outrun the apocalypse pocket full of dog treats to throw to the beast. Alison Hicks’s latest collection of poems is Homing. She was … Continue reading Portrait with Amulets by Alison Hicks