When you look at me do you see crafty or something more leviathan? I swear my veins aren’t filled with sand, blood does not become me. One spark of my wit could lift a cart of gold, my hair hangs
My Friends Call it Luck
You were lucky even before I knew you, he said. I’ve always been the type to think that luck isn’t something inborn, but it does seem that luck’s dog and I have become pretty tight over the years, she replied.
Nobody Knows the Birthplace of Corn
It was a common gold, so Mayans ate it and traded the obsidian and jade they gathered under the snout of volcanoes. The corn god was the flesh-perfect of male beauty. We cried over the lightness of breaking forth. But