The literary site of Jason Bentsman & Co. Entertainment, illumination, edification
I just found a tiny bug, a baby cockroach, in my friend’s cabinet, and instinctively squashed it with a napkin.
So, too, can someone or something squash me in an instant.
We nestle away in lees of safety, adorn ourselves in houses of comfort, live a grand illusion, when we exist on the flimsiest of foundations, bound to fate and the seemingly blind, indiscriminate will of the universe.
Jazz Wafts
Jazz wafts
through the darkness
of the lake. . .
past hunched trees
and grass
like clumped rice,
tissue-paper clover,
past glazed sand
and gravel
in the road,
forgotten boulders,
past street lamps
and their pale
amber glow.
On a boulder
sits a bottle.
It asks for nothing,
gives nothing in return.
The blank hum of crickets.
“It so happens I am sick of being a man. . .”
I leave the bottle
and walk on,
into the darkness. . .
∆ Appeared in FIRE: No. 14 (Oxford, UK)
Sara
Sunlight.
Her face was narrow.
The luminescent green sea.
Her elegant neck and slight fingers.
Silver jewelry.
To grow up when it was fashionable to be young.
Mistakes and great happiness conquered the world.
This is the impression twisted.
She smiled and talked and took careful inhalations of another
cigarette.
∆ Appeared in FIRE: No. 14 (Oxford, UK)
The Path
Down the path
still water
the fallen birch
like a charm
encased in black glass
moonlight
soft glow of
hidden cabin
∆ Appeared in FIRE: No. 14 (Oxford, UK)
The Blues Brothers (7-9er)
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The law of the fear of death. The closer a creature is to inanimacy, the less it fears death?
There is no mind without matter. Therefore, when the body expires, the spirit leaves in the form of ethereal matter— which we can’t yet detect. Cats and some other animals can see it. We could systematically monitor creatures at the point of death to detect what the spirit is comprised of.
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