Some blame onions, some blame grief, some find me born from sweet relief. Though causes differ far and wide, tears are the tracks I leave behind.

Down, quills, hollow bones. All of this a bird owns. One more word fits the group, how indeed to fly the coop?

A wife shoots her husband with a thirty-five mm automatic. Several times, including the head and some unmentionable places. Then they have a lovely dinner together. How is this possible?

Today my dog, Minton decided to eat a shuttlecock.

I could describe defeat in battle or a departure from grace the change from awake to asleep or from health to illness the embrace of love or the snare of lies