supposing we could popgun euclid's sow

for Stephen Harper

arise, one-pound |@| Pepsico glucose-wisp |@|
as celsius |@| goes down on Poussin |@|
your closeups uncouple |@| pseudo police afterall |@|
and pendulous coupons |@| wig out |@|

the plow's cooped-up pocus |@| eludes a suede peso |@|
where winos |@| gulp undeployed dowels |@|
and sundogs |@| dispose of the gowned, unsold pupils |@|
o where can we |@| indulge in swooped Punic |@|

and yes, sidelong England |@| dingles my poodle |@|
and cupid |@| secludes the swung populous |@|
and the cognised spouse |@| induces cupped owl |@|
before one owes pulpwood |@| to lupus |@|

in opuscule, they say, no cowslip |@| undoes pudginess |@|
and wounded pulses |@| snug no wooed delousing |@|
but Meine Geliebe |@| sagt: spew the souped gunsel |@|
be disc |@| to the scud in low cuspid |@|

-fortressy equation