Every morning, my grandmother cleaned the Fischer stove in the back of the trailer, lifted as in a shovel, careful not to spill the white-gray dust, Precious, she said, her breath smoking in the cold. Precious in winter's first lavender not-quite-light--and you could smell it, the faintest acrid hint of ash, a crispness calling you from bed. You could watch her cap it in a chicory coffee can to stack among other, back bent from a long-gone fever. For the garden in the spring, she said.
Two men share one tooth. From one tooth the men predict the world. Thank you! or we would not exist. Two men and one tooth is not a problem. One man is wide and one man is sober. Sometmes the men are the same. Little toot
Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I;ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if i perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice
No lines are longer than 80 characters, TYVM.
Other specified properties aren’t being scored automatically at this time so this is not necessarily good news…