towards the order of tulip, calliope, then gone Great curling toes ripple in the cheap light. The pugilist corp takes the field. They're expecting an enormous bumble-stooge, one with a dour gift and a strident glide in its stride. While talking amongst themselves they also decide that, Some virtues are going to have to be enough. That the massive iron and steel jack-a-man can stare down on their ranks like it's facing a table of cyphers. That this is a dour gift of the morning and that forward into the warm squint of day they'll continue. - Generic Frustration I am like the power of history, much read but clearly misunderstood. I am like the power of history, the kind of story that puts out again and again. I lean back on a hot summer night and listen to the radio wail. I smack the ribbon of my lips and dry my hands. I am not this worried for the power of every small friend that I see. I'm not this worried for you. I am like the power of history, I worry and c...