The Brooklyn Rail

                  the styles upon styles upon styles of the sentence-makers in
a blender. damn the torpedoes. who’s your docent? somewhere
contradictory this way comes. the inevitable is tired. if it were a
grey wren, it wouldn’t sing. if the kids are alright, then why is the
school not burned down?

                  ollie ollie oxen free mumia abu-jamal.

                  the audience should feel they are hearing the future arriving
right on time. o, we naming names now? turn the style up to
blend and make the sentences glide.

                  it felt iterative like we rocked them bamas. worst case
scenario: the swallows never come back to capistrano again.
syntax, your chariot awaits. improvising on a theme like wishing
on a star.