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sparkle + blink 76
2016 Quiet Lightning
cover Kat Geng
katgeng.com
Our Secrets by Minna Dubin first published by *82 Review
book design by j. brandon loberg
set in Absara
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CONTENTS
curated by
Kat Geng
katgeng.com
Opening Scene
From Here on Out
1
3
ROBERT DUBROW
Nicknamed Torch
IRIS BLOOMFIELD
KELLY EGAN
day six
7
Backcountry
9
ballot initiative: mission rock
development project, sf
11
SIAMAK VOSSOUGHI
The Overpayment
13
MINNA DUBIN
Our Secrets
19
JARED ROEHRIG
21
NORMA SMITH
Home Remedy
31
E.C. MESSER
The Poet
33
IRIS BLOOMFIELD
Nightmare of You
41
LINDSEY ADAMS
ET
QU I
G IS SPONSOR
LIGHTNIN
ED B
Y
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
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public relations
Meghan Thornton treasurer
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secretary
Sarah Ciston
director of books
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director of films
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art director
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producer/assistant managing director
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helpingon any levelplease send us a line:
e v an @ qui et light nin g . o rg
III
IIIIIIIIIIII
O P E NI N G S C E N E
[Friday evening. The end of the world.
MYTHIC BITCH descends
upon the technospiritual grid
lock / the sensual traffic-jam
/ digital blue on the motherboard 2nite
& screamlaughs:]
L O L CANT STOP MY HYPERLINKAGE
NOW
THIS GIRL HAS A REAL JOB
MAKING REAL $$$ / GET THAT / GOT
THAT
ITS RAINING TOKENS ON THIS
JUKEBOX ORGY
U ORGANICS ARE TOAST WHEN I
SPLINTER-RAIN
ON THIS TILTED HEXGAME / WHEN
I FAMEFUCK THE TOP-40 / IM
1
I ris Bloomf ie ld
RR
RRRRRRRRRRR
NI C KNAMED T O R C H
The dude with one shoe started it remarked a
bystander enthralled by the conflagration.
Morning headlines scream, Three Story Luxury
Condo Burned Down. Thirty-six San Antonio Road
actually. Im the dude with one shoe. The other one
caught fire. Barbecue on my third floor balcony went
wrong. Coals in the Weber looked dead. Squirt of
lighter fluid should fix that, right? Whoa, big flare up,
lighter fluid bottle on fire. Drop that bad boy. Cap
pops off on impact. Kerosene soaks wooden deck.
Instant inferno. Smash the glass, grab the fire extinguisher. Blast deck with foam. Canister spent. Smoky
pause. Flames re-erupt with vengeance, lick ceiling.
Staggering heat. Camping gas tin on deck explodes
in brilliant fireball. Shockwave shatters glass slider.
Someone hollers fire on the roof! Enough
heroics. Time to run. Knock on neighbors door and
yell get out now!
Belching generators, searing spotlights, a hundred
men in uniform. Major thoroughfares closed.
Reporters, film crews and helicopters buzz about.
Large gawking herd forms. File report; flee one
5
KKKKKKKKKK
DAY SIX
To propitiate a Saturday,
I hike into its chasm. With a
backpack
and a packet full of black seeds. I know Im in the
grips
of a Saturday when Ive made no plans, when Im
blank
and beyond approach, when the future winds
stir up off the rim, funnel through the hollow
of a crow.
When it croaks
I perch.
Future scallops the pond
and Lord Saturday appears, as he does,
as a family on the other shore. Shards of cheers
for the dog swimming after its ball half thrall me.
I focus on the s-curve of an egrets neck
but theres nothing here
not of the spell
Turn the reverie up, turn the reverie down.
The dial is stuck.
I am mid-spiral looking down, looking up,
7
BACKCOUNTRY
We must uncenter our minds from ourselves...unhumanize our
views a little...become confident
As the rock and ocean that we were made from.
Robinson Jeffers, carmel point
10
BALLOT INITIATIVE:
of cubist ignorance
11
la di dah
in geologic time...
12
frontier
sign my name
S
SSS
SSSSSSSSSS
SS
THE OVERPAYMENT
looked so miserable.
But youre a good guy, Ray.
Never mind good, I said. If I tried to get away with
it, next thing you know Ill tell some girl I dont love
that I love her. Then Ill get married and lose some real
money. Im just being practical.
He laughed.
I wish my son was practical like you.
He might be, I said. I know some guys whove
disappeared like that. Hell be all right.
Do you know what I do at night? he said. I drive up
and down Haight Street looking for him.
I felt mad at the world when he said that. For making
a guy like Tonys son think that disappearing was the
practical thing to do.
Hell be back, I said.
I see what you mean about the money, Tony said. And
telling a girl you dont love that you love her. I hope
you can tell some girl that you do love that you love
her.
Thanks Tony, I said. Ill start with all the girls who
14
15
little.
I wasnt lying when I told him it was a matter of
practicality.
Im going to finish up here and head home, Tony said.
And then Ill head out there again tonight.
Listen, I said. Ill go out there with you tonight.
You dont have to do that.
Itll be good to have two people. We can each look on
one side of the street.
My father had never had to drive around looking for
me. But it was close. Hed always known where I was,
but hed been just about as worried about me as Tony
was now. Hed come down from Seattle and Id hated
to see him worried like that, but Id had to be honest
that I couldnt look in any direction and not see death,
except when I sat down to draw at my desk.
All right, hed said, then sit down and draw for as long
as you need to.
It was the best thing anybody could say to me.
Now I had to do everything I could to have something
worth drawing when I sat there.
16
Sia ma k Vossou gh i
17
MMM
MMMMMMMM
O U R SE C R E TS
1. The CreekYou: No pants. Me: No socks. Ouchy
feet on river rocks. I hold your hand too tight. We
watch two red lizards swim around and around.
I think youll shriek with excitement, but Ive
switched us. You watch calmly. I shriek. The water
is ice. We are so happy.
2. Buses & TrainsAfter preschool, we run to the
bus stop even though our house is down the street.
The bus lets out a deep sigh so you can step into it.
You say loud hellos to all the passengers. Next, we
run down the BART station steps to your favorite
spot, where you watch the trains come, and feel
the big wind. Me: Should we get on a train and go
home? You: Well just hang out here.
3. BreakfastYou: Monster-size cereal spoonfuls.
Me: Catching falling cereal soldiers, gritting my
teeth, Smaller bites, please! You: Finger resting
on a lone Cheerio on the edge of the bowl, Can I
push this one back to his family? Me: Softening
softening.
4.
20
JJJ
JJJJJJJJJJ
B AT M A N
ERMAN
22
LLL
Q U IC K
LLLLLLLLLL
, TO PARCH AGAIN
24
25
speaking with.
Hoping I fill the holes in my memories with him,
with what I want to be true about us.
I knew you was from Cali! Its in your voice
A waterlogged sky. The first time my ears were
pierced by tornado sirens.
Remembering, Out here honey, its pronounced Byoona
Vistaremarking on my California mouth mispronouncing his country hometown.
I came here to look for my Daddy.
26
To change!
Li ndse y Ada ms
27
28
Li ndse y Ada ms
29
NNN
NNNNNNNN
H O ME REMED Y
Those were the days
When someone close died,
either in the hospital or at home,
we cooked. How many times
did I arrive home from school to find a note
on the kitchen counter:
Jack Roseman died. Go to the store
and buy six fryers. Season them well and
bake them at 400.
Bring them
to the Rosemans. You know
where they live. Ill meet you there,
or
Rose Jackman died today.
In the freezer youll find
a brisket, cooked last week. Thaw it.
Ill pick you up at five. Well heat it
at the Jackmans. Poor Barry!
Today, if I were 16 again,
There would be
a text message, the same
instructions. My mother,
long gone now, knew
how to cook for comfort,
31
32
EEEEEEEEEEE
T H E P O ET
The poet was born, like so many poets, in a small
Midwestern town. He was raised in a sprawling
Victorian farmhouse whose grounds were no longer
being used as a working farm. The only remnant of the
propertys agrarian past was a goat, which the rest of
his family ignored but to which the poet grew deeply
attached, and which would later appear in many of his
poems. A grainy photograph of the house itself, taken
sometime around the turn of the century, would grace
the cover of his second, most successful collectiona
photograph he had originally found in the attic on a
hunt for hidden Christmas presents.
As soon as he could, the poet moved to the far West,
taking with him nothing more than a few books and
a few dollars. He won a scholarship to a prestigious
but affordable public university in a sprawling
Western city, soaking up the words of the old poets
in the warm Pacific sun. He fell in with the students
of the new atonal music, which was just beginning to
gain notoriety in the art world, if not in the world of
classical music itself. He enjoyed their combination
of strict discipline and charming recklessness, so
akin to his own. He sat quietly writing reams of
33
35
After years of lectures and a few visitingprofessorships, the poet grew tired. He had refused
all offers of permanent appointment, even from
prominent institutions, preferring instead to wander
like the poets of old. He was even beginning to feel
like the poets of old: his neck hurt and his writing
grew poorer and poorer by the year. He longed to
settle in a warm climate, no more than a block from a
decent caf and maybe an independent bookstore. He
bought a cheap condo one state away from his former
desert compound, just half an hours drive from the
fancy suburb where his elder daughter lived with her
husband and two children. He had not seen his son, her
brother, in many years, though the poet understood
that he visited her regularly. The condo was the only
home hed ever owned, but he would live there for less
time than anywhere else in his adult life.
The poet died as he was bornin the style of poets.
No, not by his own hand, though in his late forties he
considered a bridge not far from his middle Western
birthplace; he died at home in bed, finally seriously
ill from seven decades of careless living. Hed never
been sick a day in his life, aside from drink and a
few seasonal colds. He died surrounded by loving
though illegitimate children who took care to be sure
that their father did not spend his last days in filth
and obscurity. Or were they illegitimate? The dying
poet could not remember whether hed properly
married their respective mothers, or if theyd only had
common-law arrangements. He wanted to remember
E.C. Me sse r
37
38
39
40
NIGHTMARE OF YOU
Is any of this real?
Were watching Wall-E
and Im having my first
drug-induced panic attack.
Im scared for the first time
re: how little of anything I ever
actually touch at all.
It feels logical.
I ris Bloomf ie ld
41
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