a restless man named Kerouac once scribbled in his notebook. And now, more than fifty years later, I see a thousand tiny hammers hovering above the pavement and striking in rapid, silvery succession. Hammers without hands, lit from an unknown source — the sun tried and failed long ago, put out its last cigarette, they should have seen me in former years — the entire scene etched on the inside of an addict’s eyelid by Gustave DorĂ©.
William Michaelian's work appears in Cosmopsis Quarterly 1; his two books of poetry are available from Cosmopsis Books.
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