Featured Poet
Barbara Lydecker Crane

Spotlight: Barbara Lydecker Crane
by Jean L. Kreiling

A Chandelier for Chris
Verse tributes to Chris O’Carroll,
by Al Basile, Thomas DeFreitas, Julia Griffin, Jean L. Kreiling, Susan McLean, Frank Osen, and Gail White

Book Reviews
by Barbara Loots

Poems by…
Lisa Barnett
Al Basile
Steven Urquhart Bell
Bruce Bennett
Jerome Betts
Michael Calvert
Dan Campion
D.A. Cooper
Pat D’Amico
Roxanna Dunn
A.Z. Foreman
Martin Fridson
Daniel Galef
David Galef
Charles Ghigna
Justin Gillenwater
Midge Goldberg
Julia Griffin
Max Gutmann
Joel Herzfeld
Zachary McLeod Hutchins
Steven Kent
Philip Kitcher
Barbara Loots
Bruce McGuffin
Bob McKenty
Susan McLean
Paul Moffett
Tom Schmidt
Michael Shewmaker
Timothy Steele
Charlene E. Taber
Gail White
Glenn Wright

We dedicate this issue to Chris O’Carroll (1951-2026), a hilarious author; beloved husband, father, brother, and grandfather; perennial winner of humor contests; and longtime contributor to Light. Those who attended Chris’s poetry readings were treated to brilliantly antic, off-book performances of his work. (He was a former actor and stand-up, after all.) Those lucky enough to have Chris as a friend received frequent notes encouraging their own writing. He is, in short, hugely missed by our community—but at least we can cheer ourselves up by reading (and rereading) his poems. You’ll find a trove of them in his Light feature here, plus witty commentary on his style in Bill Greenwell’s essay here… and we hope you’ll check out Chris’s rollicking books (see our News page for links to recent ones). And don’t forget the poetic tributes to him in this issue, A Chandelier for Chris.

To a Medical Student Dissecting My Cadaver

You’re sure to see me from some angle
I myself could never wangle,
And I can’t guess how much respect
It’s reasonable to expect
As all my scars and imperfections
Yield to your intimate inspections.
In your shoes, I might deride me
While I looked around inside me,
Eyeing the organs I abused
By what I didn’t use, or used.
So feel entitled to a joke
About the flesh you slice and poke.
Saving lives and easing pain
Are worthwhile skills you hope to gain
From what my innards can reveal.
If laughter aids that, no big deal.
I will be too deceased to mind
Your quips about what you might find.
Someday, your manner by the bed
Of any patient who’s not dead
Will feature sober empathy,
But cut yourself some slack with me.

~ © 2022 Chris O’Carroll, first published in Light

Cover photo: “Old-School Bus,” by Melissa Balmain