By Ben Greenman
from random notebook, mid-nineties
Everything fell.
Everything fell because there was nothing holding anything up anymore.
Everything fell and everyone looked at it where it fell and shrugged.
Everything fell and there was nothing that anyone could do.
Everything fell and everyone noticed that specifics had ceased to matter.
Everything fell and every noun that had once described a scene first faded into the background and then fell onto the ground.
Table, man, interrogation, for example, or airplane, missile, explosion, or even husband, wife, tears: everything fell and there was no dividend in description.
The nouns were on the ground.
The scenes were on the ground.
The ideas about those scene were on the ground.
The ground held everything, but passively, with a cruel indifference.
The ground held power by removing power from everything else.
The ground began to sink, almost as an afterthought.
Everything fell further.
No comments:
Post a Comment