Surge
DOI:
https://doi.org/10.7764/ESLA.61891Abstract
With my lids shut, lashes oiled with sleep and urges,
My hands got caught in the spokes of unstoppable trains:
Faltering, threatening sages.
Yes, despite my whale blubbering,
my visual lubrication,
The screech and the grinding of literary gears.
The metallic sparks,
my fathomless visions….
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Published
2023-06-22
Issue
Section
FICTION
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.