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Well, we’d spent that summer burying boys who drove 8 cylinders of steel into familiar trees like folding into the fat arms of big breasted waitresses going nowhere soon. We buried sisters, brothers, would-be lovers. Unraveled bones from grain threshers. Swamped stalls and popped cherry in river banks where we rose like angels stinking of earth and sweet cum.”

check out Dani Sandal’s kick ass tale over at Baltimore Review:
http://baltimorereview.org/index.php/winter_2015/contributor/dani-sandal


Published by Marcus Slease

Born in Portadown, Northern Ireland, Marcus Slease has made his home in such places as Turkey, Poland, Italy, South Korea, the United States, Spain, and the United Kingdom – experiences that inform his nomadic surrealist writing. His latest book is Never Mind the Beasts (Dostoyevsky Wannabe 2020).

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