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Shirley Hazzard

on December 16, 2016

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art is the only afterlife of which we have evidence

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Satan and Sam Shay by Robert Arthur

Satan and Sam Shay by Robert Arthur Robert Arthur (1909-1969) was a radio and RV producer, a knowledgeable editor, and a skillful writer of mysteries, fantasy, and science fiction. Proficient with both horror and comedy, many of his works, like the one below, are acknowledged classics. I am told that sin has somewhat declined since Satan met Sam Shay. I cannot vouch for this, but they say that production has definitely fallen off since that evening when Sam Shay won three wagers from the Devil. And this is the tale of it. Sam shay, you’ll understand, was a bold rascal with Irish blood in his veins, though Yankee-born and –bred. Six feet he stood, with wide shoulders and a grin and dark hair with a touch of curl to it. Looking at his hands and his brawn, you’d hardly have guessed he’d never done an honest day’s labor in his life. But it was true. For Sam was a gambling man, and since he was a boy, matching coppers or playing odd and even with his fellows, every penny passing

Orphee [for Kathy Acker] by Neil Gaiman

Selfie By Frieda Hughes

You want to fix yourself into that event With an image of the volcano, or street killing, Or house fire, or fornicating bullfrogs, Or the centaur dancing, or the unicorn Piercing balloons over a pond with a fountain Shaped like an oak tree from the undiscovered torts That have scattered through office blocks and suburban homes, And which may be uncovered one day And be ripped from the sculpted foliage, becoming fact, Causing this accumulation of lies to fall like leaves Into the water below—and the unicorn to leap Into fiction while you Will be fixed in time to an image of crime, Or joy, or wonder, or a unicorn, As a commitment for life on the Internet Repeated, retweeted, But forever with your back to it.

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Shirley Hazzard

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