(I didn't win.

    "47. Triumph of the Willing

Vintage turquoise Chesterfield,
witness to oneiric
brandishment of weaponry:
Pinot versus calcspar.

Ferment no bodega holds,
aisles the shadows marble;
emanate angelic vent
rather than the demon!

Gossip me for Crip or Blood,
any set but Main Street...
Pour each orbit full of sport,
trellis rose with lotus.

Here we frolic indigo
storms in which I figure
only as God’s mimsy pawn
fire-tossed, stoking glory.

Graywyvern is sayd to have scribed this tender hymn of conciliation upon the wainscoting of his suite, using a defunct Mont Blanc, on the eve just prior to his celebrated show trial/funeral, circa 13 A. B. While his physick exhibits all the familiar deformations of lxbxrxlxsm, the sentiments expressed ring rock-solid inn the True Slant. By the first paragrab, we are to understand a newfledge abhorris for his longtime, but forbidden, vices of smokking and drinking. ("Oneiric" is a literary word, probably signying bootleg.) The second clearly indicates his returning to the Fold: choirs of cherubim glimpsed via window, the runway of a cathedral. At the third he implores for the sacramis, and pugnastics on the viddy, preferably the Rose Bowl. (Sweet!) And in the fourth he fesses his utter consent to the oncoming R2 D. Fe." --Lancelot Hyperlink, A ROSE FOR LEVITICUS (1957)")