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Nicholas Danby
@danbytown
“Motion” by Peter Bullen first appeared in Red Wheelbarrow
“The Pull” by Lili Weckler first appeared in Thin Air Magazine
“The Diary of Water” by Anna Avery
first appeared in Bombay Gin Literary Journal
book design by j. brandon loberg
set in Absara
quietlightning.org
su bmit@ qui e tli g h tn i n g . o r g
CONTENTS
curated by
Sarah Carpenter + Gracie Malley
featured artist
Nicholas Danby | @danbytown
1
What I know through Chinese Medicine is that the
nails of the body are connected to the Liver and the
Liver is the leader and governor of the free flow of
energy. Free flow of qi, to be specific. If I was a very
relaxed person and everything was going and flowing,
I would have perfect toenails. Pink and smooth and
translucent like little slices of bai shao. The Liver
governs your eyes, it governs your sinews and your
tendons, it governs shouting and anger. The Liver organ
is said to be associated with the Spring, with Windy
gusty days that stir up out of nowhere and leave you
breathless. I have weak nails on my hands that chip off.
My eyesight before Lasik eye surgery was bad. I have
a very hard time getting angry. When I study Chinese
Medicine and I study my imperfections, I see how my
anger repression issues show up as fungal utopia. My
nails are weak so they are a perfect breeding ground
for an enemy invasion.
2
I am attached to my toes, ugly as they are. Imperfect
as they are. These toes help me weed out boyfriends.
Some people bury their monsters deep deep inside. Me,
it’s out in the world to see, on my right foot. Take a
look. I’m wearing gold toenail polish so good luck.
Kat i e Wh e e le r- Du bi n 3
opiate addictions. I burn myself, but it’s a 5,000 year
old tradition called moxa. As a child, I tortured small
animals. I don’t do that anymore.
4
RRRRRRR
RRRR
F IR ST F E A ST
the plan is
meet at my place
walk to Hanover Park
have a picnic
end of date
5
even cuter in person
oh wow you have hand tattoos
oh wow
you’re a nomad and a massage therapist
you’ve been to festivals I’ve never heard of
how long have we been talking
let’s open the wine
6
the plan was not to get you drunk
oh no
you’re so small
you were maybe drinking in stride with me
not knowing I am a competitive wine drinker
oh no
you’re tired, in no shape to drive
Ri ss Rosa do 7
you drew a face on it
8
PPPPPPPPP
PPP
M O TI O N
9
quite brazen and not even a little bit sexy. Which, she
went on to say, was unfortunate, since brazen can be
very sexy in different circumstances. I had to agree
with her there. Cindy was first rate at the making of
salient points. If memory serves, that’s what had me
fall in love with her in the first place; that and her
promise to make me watch the news in leather chaps.
“We could just turn him off,” I said. “Are you kidding?”
she screamed, her face turning a scary shade of red.
“Now he’ll be in our thoughts forever, we’ll never shake
him!”
10
PICTURE THIS
“Is it helping?”
P e t e r Bu lle n 11
“They’re always there,” she said.
12
“Not a single person? “
“I’ll try not to,” I said, “but I’m starting to fall fast
asleep.”
P e t e r Bu lle n 13
T TTTTTTTTTTTT
T TT TT
C AT H Y I S H AV I N G
A BAD DAY
15
into the aisle. Instead, this pew is pine, and unfinished.
This air is not conditioned, but heavy and humid. Even
with the accumulation of sweat underneath her now
thick thighs, she would never be able to slide across this
wood. No angels, no matter how strong, would catch
her now. The weight of God is suddenly unbearable.
Cathy, forgetting to cross herself, tumbles out of the
pew and back onto the street.
Lie on your back and you will find what you are searching
for.
16
Cathy walks to the section of the store she thinks
will be the least populated, the Poetry section, and
collapses next to Rilke and Rumi.
Now, have you ever had another spirit inside of your body?
No, not an omniscient presence, says the voice, but one spirit,
existing only inside of you.
18
GG GGGGGGGGG
GG GG
YES
20
IIIIIIIIIIII
III
SU M M ER 2 0 17
21
HHHHHHHHH
HHH
FI R ST TI M E I N B A LI
23
Absorbed the price of paradise, in
Our pineapple vodkas and tan lined
Pelvic kiss, the faux honeymoon mattress on
Which we laughed inverted. The day
24
AAAAAAAAAAA
AA
B L A C K P L A STI C C H A I R
25
SHE IS FOLDING HER CLOTHES
26
- SET 2 -
JJJJJJJJ
JJJ
A R A K E ’S C O N F E S S I O N
30
he was saying even though I wasn’t there, I don’t know
how, maybe that was the dream and I could hear him,
it was like me, it was, it was like things I would say but
it wasn’t. It wasn’t, it was much more, I don’t know,
more clever maybe, clever and interesting and people
seemed to be listening and they liked it but it wasn’t
me. And do you know what he said. I know it’s not true,
all those stories he told, they’re not true but I wouldn’t
call them lies. And even what I’m saying right now. I
mean who’s saying it. Who’s speaking right now. It’s
me, it’s me of course because—you can tell right? You
can tell that this is me and it shouldn’t be, no it should
be, it’s right but now I don’t know any more. I can’t
tell. And no one would listen. They all said, they all
kept saying I did it, you shot at that boy they said, you
covered those people’s faces and made them stand on
that stool, all those things, you did that, and you know
what it was, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me I was asleep
and then he, you know the other one, he said, that one
said, well then someone did it for you. You wanted to, I
didn’t want to but he said I wanted to, he said I wanted
to and someone did it for me, he used my name and he
did it for me and now you’re happy, he said, you can
admit it, you know this is what you wanted and I’m
not…I didn’t do it and I didn’t want it and now I can’t
get rid of it. I can’t get away from it and everyone says
it was me and I can’t wake up. And he keeps saying,
he keeps telling me that even if you didn’t hold that
guy down, even if you weren’t the one who grabbed
that woman and started choking her, which, I mean
even if you did it was OK, you did what you thought
Joh ny Blood 31
was right, but even if that wasn’t you who did it, still
you know what you’ve done. You know what you’ve
done and it’s just as bad. You’ll never straighten it out,
you’ll never be OK but think it over, really it’s OK. He
says, you can never come back from this. After what
you’ve done, no you can never go back. What you’ve
lost is lost forever. But you know you would have lost
it anyway so in that way, yes it’s OK. That’s not true,
or I don’t know maybe that part is true. That I’ll lose,
you know, lose everything I guess, I don’t want that to
be true. It doesn’t have to be. Or maybe I already have.
Do you know what he told me? This really was a lie I
think, I mean I know it’s not true, he said—I know, I
know I shouldn’t fall for it, but he said don’t worry,
things can be like they were before, everything will
be like it used to be and that’s just what I wanted to
hear, I knew it wasn’t true but that’s what I wanted to
hear, he said things could be like they were before. But
that it could be over and I could just forget, no I don’t
believe that. I think if everyone would stop saying it, if
someone would just say yes of course you were asleep
and it was a dream but not if I say it. Not if it’s just
something I’m saying to myself. You know? But I think,
I don’t know it seems like it can’t be just a dream. If
it’s a dream, if it’s only a dream, then this, I mean me
saying it is a dream. Then it’s not even a dream it’s a…
no. Then there’s no end. Then it couldn’t stop because,
do you see, because it would keep going on. I mean if
this. I mean if me right now. If me what I’m saying. If
this is a dream and I’m still dreaming then I don’t need
to wake up, I need to go back to sleep. If this is a dream
I’ll go back to sleep. No.
32
LLLLLLLL
LLLL
THE PULL
I.
II.
34
and assumptions of deadness.
4. Wanda, in all her glory, perversely cooking eggs on a
non-stick.
5. Fissures, combustion, insufferable light. Opening,
sifting, stripping. Burrows and burrows. Lives,
moulton, into the pits of mountains. Like the
colonizer who insists on living according to his old
order, the rhythms of his mother England. His biscuits
at 3. His plastic skin, white button-downs, even in the
tremendous heat. Cultural adaptation only a capacity
of the lower classes?
6. Typical tech-world internet handle: his last name
spelled omitting the final vowel. Untraceable, elegant,
and yet requiring no creativity to invent. Name that
was at first a profile, that became a man, and then
quickly a ghost.
7. Ghosting, a new verb. Taking up residence next to
other things with which the internet replaced life-
sustaining actions. Replaced with a false sense of
agency acts of actual doing-ness. To be ghosted: we’re
all non-plussed to be on the receiving end of that stick.
And does that make the ghoster “plussed,” as it were?
Perhaps.
8. Ghost: a verb that means non-doing. The rejected not
even deserving of an active rejection; rejected only by
assumptions made in a vacancy.
9. 9 or 10 cops, mostly at attention, holding the sides
of their belts—chests jutting, elbows cranked back,
surveying everyone. One or two sloppily out of form,
standing but slouching, or leaning against their
bicycles like ordinary men.
Li li We ckle r 35
10. 9 or 10 white cops and one skinny, black drug-addict,
repeatedly fixing the waist of his pants, as if his
undergarments can’t quite fit beneath the fabric and
need constantly to be reached into and smoothed
down. Blood on the sidewalk, almost invisible against
the red brick. And yet, from up close, somehow
hyper-visible, especially after staining the tan soles of
unsuspecting shoes.
11. The thick, indecent smell of menstrual fluid in the
bathroom stall. Not my own, but enough like my own
smell to be intimately recognizable. Feral. Undeniable.
12. Confessions: first to the church, and later to Freud, the
biggest ear of the modern century. Foucault: the spankee
scholar, conceiving the panopticon, swinging around
the black leather playroom.
13. The history of bodies. Bodies, their very firmament,
created by history, and history, produced, organized,
formulated by bodies (en mass). Bodies hanging from
ships. Bodies buried in fields and fields and pyramids
and walls. Bodies directing great hulks of steel across
the land and sky. Bodies below pairs of hovering eyes,
fixed before glowing portals to anywhere.
14. Planets, stars, asteroids and empty space produce
bodies but are not produced by them. Not reciprocal
entities like history. Land. Mountain. “Space.” A place
we manage to visit but do not seem, yet, to occupy. Or
to change.
36
III.
Li li We ckle r 37
AAAAAAAAAA
39
At the bottom of the child’s spine something peaks in pain.
A small hand pulls out a pin needle connecting vertebras
to vertebras and a silver sap seeps out. The child falls dead
40
The child rushes in blue roulettes, breaking down bone-by-
bone, forming cursive in the waves, twirling and reflecting
a soft metallic image.
Anna Ave ry 41
Lead paves the streets and doorways, slips into the water,
pours into a spider web fog weaves its way between
buildings and school districts. The water pushes and
breaks itself in a continuous sulfuric flow, water struggles
up walls of banks and creates an acidic current.
42
The child plays with another child, bouncing a ball in
between minefields. One child says to the other: “We
are friends but more than five hundred years and five
hundred thousands grave yards stand between us. What
shall we do?”
Anna Ave ry 43
In the space between sounds, a nervous system chatters.
The child prepares its meal, goes to work, and pretends
that nothing bad has ever happened. Bloodied spirituality
wears white satin. Unanswered questions wear the drag
of declaration, an eddy called culture. A silence says more
than not saying, a burial at sea, and dissociative dream, a
culture built upon a rotting foundation
44
Sea. Ocean dark, swallowing the picture of a memory
dissipates into sepia foam constructed of bubbles and air.
Delicate. Transparent air. Sea foam, womb contains an
invisible sea monster on a half-shell, spreading and glit-
tering and naked, blue and black and full of plastic and
brine.
Anna Ave ry 45
Swirling eddies white foam white noise
water digs into itself beneath tan and pink granite rocks.
Waterfall underneath movement foam, ripples agile skin,
gold pools underneath the water is a warm permeable
soft metallic membrane. Triangular waves irregular scales
layering. Rocks hold space for water to flow. Turbulent
crossing over millions of large and small pebbles and
boulders. These rocks form a line, then a curve, gouge
delicately into the land.
46
Memory fades into a voice without waves and a picture
without images. Thinking is a process of holding tightly
to the water. 80 percent of memory sheds into the canyon
of the cervix. Sun peaks into the second story hard wood
floor studio apartment. The sun warms the bed, the body
of a young woman hunched in a curl, draped in gold
curtains, against a grey brick wall. A mobile of deer bones
circle above her, whispering purple lullabies. Calligraphy
weeps, holds her heart with its giggling fist in a gesture to
protect. What has been hurt, what feels pain. Love songs
crawl up sweet spine boughs.
Anna Ave ry 47
Two lovers together on one bed. Drenched hours gleam
pink noises; satin magenta circles of her solitude. Circular
sounds imprint sobs create a fullness, languishes in
spacious corners, tender noise in the deep end.
48
AAAAAAAAA
AAA
LUNACY
A boy on a porch
admiring the celestial plane.
Like a professional symphonic orchestra or
a clumsy puppy or the Burj Khalifa
might bring another to their knees.
An addict of inspiring awe
he wishes to carry the moon in his pocket,
to present it before friends and family
an everlasting ephemeral experience.
49
The soft twilight eased his defeat
that planted itself on the boy’s facade.
But after a brief eternity,
the boy smiled. Beauty cannot always
be captured, reproduced and manufactured
and it was sheer madness to believe
a mortal being such as he could hold
such exuberant brilliance.
50
CCCCCCCCCCCC
CC
RISE
51
COUGH SYRUP
52
A AAAAAAAAAA
AA A
T R A F FI C
We took the exit for the whole world. Saw a sign that it
was under construction. When you’re rolling down a
ramp at fifty what are the options? All we could do was
have our thoughts and my thought during the first few
minutes was, “I’ll say!” The city was gutted and there
were sparks and shouts and ignorance and everyone
was in it together. This world is under construction
and it hurts and it’s full of some of the best parties. We
all have our moments. They’re so real we can’t take it.
Each of us, known and unknown, wonders how this is
possible. This irritation, this bliss. The aches and the
damned reservoirs beneath the skin.
53
HIGHWAY TRUCKS AND THEIR
CHRISTMAS LIGHTS
54
K KKKKKKKKKKKK
K KK KK
W E L L -L IT
55
but where will I be the next time and should we
mark something
on our calendars and I ask him how he tracks his ap-
pointments
and he groans that he has too many obligations to
the living
so I promise him I will see him again and he promises
me the same
then he leaves and I stay still and am stuck and am
afraid
I am afraid to unroll the toilet paper I am afraid to
disturb his body
lying in the rain I am afraid of what waits outside of
this well-lit
room I am afraid to admit to our mother that he was
too young
I am afraid to implore him come home I am afraid to
wipe the tears
which wash over my face with the force of gently
pitying laughter
I am afraid to wash my hands I am afraid to clean
myself I am afraid.
56
- may 7, 2018 -