Mortar
Nursing the coffee, cold as slush, Jimmy doubles back on the previous sentence. He slows at its end, at the question mark he just penned, at the blank space announcing what is not flowing from what he has just written. . . .
Brick, a literary journal
Brick
PO Box 609, Stn P
Toronto, ON M5S 2Y4
Canada
Works of art are of an infinite loneliness and with nothing to be so little reached as with criticism. Only love can grasp and hold and fairly judge them. — Rainer Maria Rilke