The teeth of the poor are motivation for salvation. The holy voice grows faint in a sea of alien voices. In 1925, Hitler published Mein Kampf, a portion of which was composed in prison. Bubonic plague has not been eradicated, but treatments do exist. Also, swords from the Civil War fetch a handsome price.
A port of call that one has a bad feeling about, that one prefers to not go ashore. The "teeth" of a comb, the lattice work characteristic of some rose gardens. There is an inclination to be dismissive of texts that were excluded from the Old Testament. Yet history is not without a (discoverable) reductive narrative. In my dream, the first few words were excluded while the last was clearly "function."
A bookstore in which some real gems were found. We ate horehound candy on a hill that overlooked a swampy river, weeks away from your (untimely is not the word really) death. To what will you dedicate the forthcoming couple of sentences? As hard as it may seem, one has to keep their focus on content, not on form. As I often say to unbelievers, the Holy Spirit is not a bird and you weren't either.
Writing is a necessary disclosure regardless of intention (a truth often revealed in subject verb disagreement or parenthetical afterthought). If you speak with the heart of a sinner, and hear bells from the distant church, are you not being given a chance? Monstrous diction, vintage knives. Absolute truth is a virtuous commodity, as hard to hold as scalding tea. We are between full moons, we are grateful for the sky.