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.