The Age of Ephemerality
“Why are we going to this place anyway?” Elijah asked, looking up again from a busy page of brilliantine sunbirds. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to say we were heading to a stone on the edge . . .
Brick, a literary journal
Brick
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Toronto, ON M5S 2Y4
Canada
Each poet will write / their own hell. In mine, like yours, / I’ll be condemned to beauty. — Yusuf Saadi