i took the time to make a sandwich.

frail mastodons were creaking through the heather of our mattress
every one, an actress phoning in the last line of a mass migration
a herd of disingenuous rats, cackled slovenly
over hillocks of your dale.... on occasion -
lithium

pale thunder comes, speaking drivel in the weather of your hapless
scary nuns, in mad habits, draconian; rabid blasts in stasis
disturbed. fiendish hats, ****** almondine
over black walnuts; rather roam the hells... like an alien
than love someone