Category — Essays, commentary, prose,

by Michael Constantine McConnell

Dog-bard, a wall arose. Soon, a red, nude man-era stole Gail of deli, and, lo, my tit-net carts bade, “trap millions’ parts,” but a snag rose many fits, and I’d reward no cabs. Eve[n] Eve’s bacon drawer did nastify names, organs, a tub, straps. No ill-imparted, abstract-entity mold nailed foliage. Lots are named under a noose’s oral law - a drab god.

66(words)/259(letters)

The people are kind, but sad. Days are spent recording their stories, evenings lying on my cot fixed by the slow cloture of twilight.

Nights are filled with stars and dreaming
stories no one should ever tell.

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The Democratic Republic of Congo is home to the deadliest war in the world today. An estimated 5.4 million people have died since 1998, the largest death toll since the Second World War.

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