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October 2016, vol 12 no 3

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Peter Newton

The Ascension


He woke on his last day with the palpable feeling of being an astronaut at lift-off.

Under an esplanade of leaves all moving at once through the nearly invisible hospital sheers he recognized the slow brilliance, a warmth pulsing in complete command of the sun.

heat wave

The curtains rose slowly as if the world was breathing life into the room.

the train cars too fast

A blast of long-stored fuel rushing up through a maze of chambers.
A gush of adrenaline flooding the vessels of his brain.
A flock of pigeons flapping wildly whoosh past the window.

to read their graffiti


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