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sparkle + blink 71
2016 Quiet Lightning
artwork McKenzie Coonce
mckenziecoonce.com
Your Mother Came to Me Again by Alexandra Naughton
from the forthcoming novel American Mary (Civil Coping
Mechanisms)
The Rules by Annelyse Gelman
from Everyone I Love is a Stranger to Someone (Write Bloody, 2014)
book design by j. brandon loberg
set in Absara
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CONTENTS
curated by
MICHAEL PALMER
McKenzie Coonce
Christmas Vacation
Lamentation for a Broken
Constellation 9
ALEXANDRA NAUGHTON
11
15
21
25
27
LAURA JEW
29
ANNELYSE GELMAN
The Rules
31
33
35
36
Funeral
HEIDI ANDREA RESTREPO RHODES
ET
QU I
G IS SPONSOR
LIGHTNIN
ED B
Y
lagunitas.com
QUIET LIGHTNING
A 501(c)3, the primary objective and purpose of Quiet
Lightning is to foster a community based on literary
expression and to provide an arena for said expression. QL
produces a monthly, submission-based reading series on
the first Monday of every month, of which these books
(sparkle + blink) are verbatim transcripts.
Formed as a nonprofit in July 2011, the board of QL is
currently:
Evan Karp
executive director
Chris Cole
managing director
Josey Lee
public relations
Meghan Thornton treasurer
Kristen Kramer
chair
Kelsey Schimmelman
Sarah Ciston
Katie Wheeler-Dubin
secretary
director of books
director of films
- SET 1 -
MMM
MMMMMMMMMM
CHRISTMAS VACATION
Everyone acts nice and friendly;
everyone wants to talk.
We share genes
but little else.
This is Christmas.
My Father insists on cooking the meals.
Hes 92.
When I leave to return home
we wave to one another.
I know only a little
about his life and
he knows only a little
about mine.
We both wonder
if this is the last time
well see each other.
I drive past Chino, past Pomona
and turn west
to go through Los Angeles.
1
Around Pasadena
vehicles leave the freeway
to go to the Rose Bowl.
This is New Years Day.
Yesterday,
Bhutto was assassinated.
At the edge of LA
the Santa Ana winds predicted
on last nights news
whip us without mercy.
I grab the steering wheel
and pray.
The huge electronic sign
at the side of the freeway says
Fierce Winds: Drive Cautiously
stating what we all already know.
I go up and over the Grapevine
entering and leaving
the Angeles National Forest
arriving at level ground
near Bakersfield
in one piece.
I stop at a service station
and open the door of my truck.
The wind blows the door
out of my hand.
My hat sails away
2
out of sight.
I search for it
but cant find it anywhere.
In the spirit of Christmas
I hope its found by someone
who needs a hat;
a lonely field worker
whose back is aching.
I stand in the line inside the station
to use the restroom.
Its too windy
to stand outside
to fill the tank with gas.
I drive on.
Farther down the Interstate
I find a station
at a place
with less wind.
As I fill the tank
a pack of motorcyclists arrive.
Theyre white guys
in their 30s and 40s
maybe one is in his 50s.
They all have leather
jackets and chaps.
Printed in front of their jackets
Mi ch a e l Pa lme r
I imagine them
as the front-line
in a Medieval battlefield.
I leave to return
to Interstate 5.
I see families ride in suvs
with tiny computer screens bolted
above the back seat row
where movies show
to keep the kids quiet.
Tumbleweeds,
barbed skeletons,
fly across the freeway and
roll in front of vehicles
moving at 80 miles per hour.
I watch the tumbleweeds bounce
into an open field
and stop.
Some are alone,
some are connected to others.
Until the wind
takes them.
Mi ch a e l Pa lme r
LLLLLLLLL
A H IST O
RY OF THE SPIN E
KNOCK-KNOCK
The body is not born
into loyalty. It will entice you
through senses borrowed out
like books until the edges grow
dull and frayed from overuse.
Even your bones have seasons.
Even they, in their brittle geology,
record the years with poetic striations.
And as the wind cuts in, your body
will stay behind as you continue on,
wondering who betrayed who,
wondering how you could have fallen
for that trick when you knew
the ending all along.
H
HH
H
HH H
H H H HH H H H H H H H HH
L A M E N TAT I O N F O R A
BR OKE
HH
N CONSTELLATION
HH
10
AA
A
AA
AAAAAAAAAAA
YOUR MOTHER
AA
C A ME TO ME A GAIN
Your mother came to me again, all sunken dreams and
smoker lines, leaning on the bell. I could smell her
disappointment in the vestibule. Too sweet perfume
and hot breath swirling around her in waves like a
deranged tattooed halo.
I must have said hello but I cant remember now I can
only remember the way I felt the blood in my wrists
coursing like fire ants and how I hate when I can feel
that or having my fingernails touched or hearing water
in my stomach splosh around. We must have looked at
each other for some time but then I turned.
She followed me silently up creaking stairs, so close
behind, too close, silently closely everpressing.
Did you need something. Maybe I can help, and
pausing and feeling like wringing my eyes to guess a
motivation, adjusting with hands moving slowly like a
supplicant but she just glared, peeling linoleum.
This cant keep happening.
I pressed.
11
13
CCCC
CCCCCCC
TAPEWORMS
Hypochondriacs dont necessarily fear death; they just
believe everything is about to kill them.
Growing up, my hypochondria was the touchstone of
my adolescence.
(Lets just say puberty is a bitch, anxiety disorder or
not. But for me, every time I witnessed a change in my
body, from armpit hair to the inevitable menstruation,
instead of chalking it up to the progression of life into
adulthood, I freaked the fuck out and pleaded to go to
the emergency room.)
Suddenly the emergencehow did I not see it before?
of my pronounced collarbone got me into a fit of terror.
I run up to my mom, who is watching tv in the living
room.
Whats this? I cry, using both hands to cover my chest
area where the protruding bones appeared.
I dont know, what are you pointing at? my mother
answers, unaware that children can be so incredibly
unaware of their own bodies.
15
starting to form.
Can you hear it?
Yeah, its ok.
Shed sit there until I dozed off, hand gently resting. It
went on like this for years.
In the sixth grade I went to an emergency room nine
times. I didnt attend school for a month and a half. It
was one of the worst periods in my childhood, in an
altogether checkered one. It started with a real, banal
infectionbronchitis. Winter was particularly cold
that year, and the Central Valley air made it difficult
to breathe some days. Bored and alone, waiting for
my parents to come home from work, I would read
the medical textbook. Before I knew it, what became
a small throat virus was first diagnosed by me as
esophageal cancer. A headache was a brain tumor and
a pain in the abdomen meant my appendix burst. My
long-suffering parents tried to reason with me, but I
would cut them off.
You are not a doctor! I would wail.
Not that I would always believe doctors anyway.
When I returned to school, my prognoses continued. I
favored parasitic infections, the more exotic, the better.
A bookishly shy child, its not like I exactly wanted to
Ca rly Na i rn
17
Ca rly Na i rn
19
KKKK
KKKKKKKK
GOOD
the pavement was grey
the pavement was grey and pink
the pavement was grey and pink and crawling, and
in parts marked by colored chalk left by four
sticky hands and a lemonade stand and a sunny
afternoon, unsupervised just for a second and a
child misspelling her neighbors name
the pavement was crawling
the payment was in the misspelling
the pavement was grey and pink and crawling
when the rain smelled good and the worms came up
so the rain smells good and the worms come up
the rain smells good, the worms come up
the rain was falling
the rain was falling
the rain was falling something strange
the rain was falling like a dairy cow milking, in fast
hard spurts and a little unwilling, with sad eyes
and a body heavy from carrying whole continents on its side, on its flank whole continents
black and vast seas white
the rain was falling
21
23
body heavy
body heavy from carrying the man in the mouth, the
child in the belly, the worms in the child, the
milk in the breast, the world on my hips, whole
continents black and blue and vast seas white
body heavy from catching the rain in my mouth, the
rain falling, sweet like lemonade
sweet like an ending
the dinosaurs teeth bared, the bucket tipping and
spilling
when the rain smells good and the worms come up
when the rain smells good, the words come up
when and rain smells good and the words come up
grey and pink and crawling
24
EE
EEEEEE
EEEEE
EE
BI R D S
I.
The pigeon huddled in the driveway
head buried into its chest
matted feathers puffed out,
and I knew immediately it was dying.
I took two steps forward, stooped down
as if to ask: how are you feeling? are you ok?
As if I might pick it up and hold it in my hands
to feel it shiver, to see if it was still alive
if I could help.
I reached down, saw its dried shit beneath its feet
and knew. I didnt want to touch
something the life had already gone out of
so I walked away.
25
II.
Im a different kind of bird.
A lost magpie that smashes into the window
repeatedly, senseless and frenzied in flight,
leaving blood and bits of feather in cobweb cracks in
the glass. I fly forward. I fly forward.
Toward the horizon, evermore frightened
and absolutely certain that the way out is through,
fixed on the horizon I cannot reach.
As for the open window I flew in through:
Ill fly through this glass before I go back that way.
26
Emi ly P i nke rt on
27
LLLLLLLLL
ON GIVING REIKI
W IT H M Y M O T H E R
Our hands placed at the temples of
two women shrouded in blankets,
light low in pools beneath our calloused feet,
healing the cradled aches of those we might have
called
sister, mother. Side by side in silence, we are
two oak trees bowing over a breathing cemetery.
Your mothers belly a swell of rain; a vessel
filled with stories we may never tell; a collection of
gazes held one second into understanding.
Can we be trusted to forgive
as readily as we trust our bodies to heal?
And when the earth begins to call for you
how much of my form will take on
all your wounds you never found time to mend?
29
AA
AAAA
AAAAAAA
AA
THE RULES
The spiral on a spiral notebooks sharp enough
to pop a water-wing. When the nurse unwound it my
whole life
fell out of order. Is it such a crime to cry in a
swimming pool?
Do I have to wear this bracelet? Once youre crazy
anything you dos crazy. One time I asked a blind
woman
what she saw. I was six. Was that crazy?
Whats behind you?
she said. I dont know. Exactly. In summer camp
before I knew what deaf meant I yelled at a boy
for capturing the wrong flag. I couldnt
understand why
the grownups kept saying hes death, hes death.
31
MMM
MMMMMMMMM
H OFFMAN
Philip Seymour Hoffman, dead
syringe and heroin found with his body
the devoted fathers body
Sunday morning, his kids went unvisited
A friend dispatched to the stars apartment
confirmed: something was terribly wrong
Broadcasters claimed the celebrity would
never not show up to see those kids
Subsequent reports hypothesized
doing Death of a Salesman on Broadway
broke the newly-single actor down
First he took to drink. Then worse
I fixate on the kids no longer living with
Philip Seymour Hoffmanthat resonant name
My deceased father was Philip
my doctoral advisor was Seymour
Hoffman was the last name of a boy
I loved at nine years old
Theres a photo of my children
just under and over nine years old
cuddling me from both sides
33
34
CCC
CCCCCCCCC
FUNERAL
Hail all
pens and paper
all words in the throat
all lasting when last
for now all blink
a darkness out of the eye
all writing has been good
but not the world and not
justice, not a word more
on the preparation of all bodies for
all judges
really the sought has basked
in the core of these teeth
will not grin
does not gain
has not been itself
35
FUNERAL
I was not seeming
could not deny I was a fly
at last a day I could sulk
me like combustion
compacted into engine
a wristwatch
we burn okay
if we sit
the size of a stone
in time
hand our love to
bench in the morning
hand our eyes to
stigmatic men
both of it
sit in the worm
crack and curl
a smile, smile
this hand Im in
ordered a flower to kneel
in order to smile
36
Ch ri s Ca rosi
37
H
HH H
H H H HH H H H H H H H HH
HH
H HF
H
OR THE BOY WHO WENT H H H
H
H TO
,
WA R A N D C A M E B A C K F I R E
CAME BACK SONG
39
40
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