It Seems That Fighting Is

Magic Is Older Than Writing. So Nobody Knows How It Started.

When A Man Keeps Beating Me To The Draw Mentally, He Begins To Get Glamorous.

Every Morning The World Flung Itself Over And Exposed The Town To The Sun.

She Stood There Until Something Fell Off The Shelf Inside Her.

Folklore Is The Boiled-down Juice, Or Pot-likker, Of Human Living.