Davinci against a gang of baboons with crimson butts. Davinci says, “I will build a contraption that can carry us all to a ballot-counting land, I will paint a portrait of what this insanity has cost, I will think up a way to stand our unkind days, but I will not call it victory.”

On my victrola: Th* Cowsills In Conc*rt.

"Giddy Ingot"

Star cold languor, fictional music
and with contagious fang unfurl aurora

Fathoms turn to blood
thy ingot