American PangramNicole Mauro
The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog—toward the unfixed meal, its shiny coat a lure moving in a far- off field…or maybe away from, as in to avoid being one…and, from then, to another to, as in naturally to whatever possessed it would ever need to conclude. Today, it’s sky out the window, bee cum in opium poppies; tomorrow, it’s winter, time for new orthodoxy, to screw re-cohoot categories of old lady with furrier stoles and milieu. This is why the vulpines are so cunning, why we take our little bipeds to zoos, otherwise how will the naïve pupil?—do what mares do to asses that sire marsupials? There is sky out the window— erudite blue. Sounds of the genus mis-ordered nothing, as in ‘humming,’ which may be coming from you.
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