Short, Fast & Deadly Pushcart Edition March 2015

Re: (the nature of light is undecided)

 

In the old time of distant things
where we spoke and heard words,
where events were long and drawn out,
excruciating
and forlorn
everything had a sound,
even the day.
I knew there was going to be this great future,
thin
and shrunken—
no—
broad and delirious
I stayed out all night for it
and it burnt me up,
I’ve been burned alive by my own language
the one taught to me.
Do you know, I grew up on the edge of town.
It was
shouts and the smell of that dry weed that grows around the lake.

.

.

.

Spencer Beach Park

.

I was baptized in the waters of Spencer Beach Park, south of Kawaihae Harbor, my head arcing out to sea. It was late afternoon and the kids were playing in the ocean like seals. I could see them floating in the shadowy waves as daylight rushed over the deep. Streams of grainy light burst through the low clouds on the dark silver water. The ocean gleamed like a plain when we rounded the corner at the Queen’s Highway. I remember the thick mildew of the rainforest, cool like stones— the white heat at Hapuna, up in Hilo the grey rain. The place used to be called Ōhai ʻula.

One day, Tyson’s mom and her friend were swimming together in the waters of a he’e au where human sacrifices were flung. Sharks have been gliding there for hundreds of years. At the time, they didn’t know it.

I was baptized not far from the he’e au, though I did not know it then either. Like the women swimmers, it was told to me later.

 

 

http://www.deadlychaps.com/2015/03/sfd-winter-2015-pushcart-two.html

 

 

Jennifer E. Brown is a writer from San Francisco. Her work appears in Lungfull!The Indiana ReviewFourteen HillsThe New Orleans Review, and other American literary journals. Presently she has been nominated by Short, Fast & Deadly for the 2016 Pushcart Prize. She holds a master’s degree in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University and works at Mills College in Oakland, California.

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“Short, Fast, & Deadly” Fall 2014

 

S. Miller

 

S. Miller married his wife twice. The first time wasn’t quite right. (She was making her rounds at the hospital and he was in love with another woman). I was there. It was in the cool rarefied air with spring snow and mud on the ground. They sang:         I am an orphan, on God’s highway. I couldn’t sing. I went to bed in my room. The whole mountain, the entire night, heaved in the dry muted expanse.

 

 

 

Ride

 “He must be waiting for his own Nausea or something of that sort.”

 

As I stepped out of the streetcar and walked away the men inside were still talking about how they knew the people they did and what they’d eaten earlier. They were going on to a place at which they would probably arrive. I watched the train speed from the station, on an escalator in a deserted tunnel under sallow lights. The cold wind was ripping in mid-summer and I thought: but I do want to live. The evening was broad and flat, as always.

 

 

 

Galaxias Kyklos

“In the high heavens there is a roadway…”

 

We were lined up on the beach in the dark as if we’d been ordered to. That’s how we fell about when we reached the spot after meandering unguided through the eroding sand path and overgrown brambles. Your head was next to mine; I could hear you sigh. “You’re a misanthrope,” I said as we all gazed up at the placid stars in their midnight. Someone asked why something was so bright and Walter said it was our galaxy, the long trail of nebular debris, cast off into black holes, unresolved bodies.

 

 

 

We Lived

 

We lived in a sweltering heat, a bright dry heat burning the life out of the day. You could hear the high whine and hum of people running the air conditioning. We ran in and out of their houses. No one walked outside, just some soundless teenagers sometimes, in t-shirts. The streets were empty and glaring. The canals rushed and sparkled.

 

 

 

 

 

J.E. BROWN

 

http://www.shortfastanddeadly.com/2014/12/fall2014echochamber.html

 

Jennifer E. Brown is a writer from San Francisco. Her work appears in Lungfull!The Indiana ReviewFourteen HillsThe New Orleans Review, and other American literary journals. Presently she has been nominated by Short, Fast & Deadly for the 2016 Pushcart Prize. She holds a master’s degree in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University and works at Mills College in Oakland, California.

 

(image: Jessica Lange)