Comptine d’un autre automne
by Marius Surleac I run over the seas and dive in the skylines burnt by the fires of hell the night that will come with all its whispers will embrace us
Flashes
by Marius Surleac today dig under me with your bare hands until you’ll pass the ribs you’ll lose half of your soul the blood will spread over the knees and within hair, emotions will be gripped
Peractio
by Marius Surleac rest your wounds in my shelter tomorrow when I’ll have to die you shall give me a kiss
Still life
by Marius Surleac through dice the six-shooter gleams at the burnt end of the bullet at the other end, like in a comet tale, blood spheres
Pestis vetus
by Marius Surleac hell is beyond the grey blocks – the desert where no human skeletons resisted to erosion, but became part of
Is There Such a Thing as Purely Virtual Literature?
(eidotomii) by Patrick Călinescu It is now quite a few years since I first thought of the changes, if any, that the Internet brings to literature. When this idea, that the Internet might indeed alter the body of literature being published virtually, occurred to me, I was just a student in the third year zealously […]