Okay so I was too ambitious with the sestina contrapuntal given that I didn’t choose the words, BUT I did write a silly little sestina with your guys’ words. We went a couple words over, but every word is in the draft somewhere, even if it’s not an ending word.

there once was a stream

that tried to elope. ‘twas twilight

and that night seemed perpetual.

The ocean of stars and its seaweed

of satellites obscured a jackalope

grazing upon the shores of Golgotha

God gotcha!

It wasn’t extreme

to say that poor little jackalope

might be run off into the twilight

by the rank seaweed

stench of perpetual

sacrifice, perpetual

death. I mean, Golgotha

really smelled of that sort of seaweed

in Jesus’ times, and the extreme

descent of the jackalope

into the sordid twilight

beckoned in some future. The twee little light

of the sun rising before the dawn and perpetual

madnesses (went from blackjack to eloping,

and paid respects to Golgotha

along the way) beached the stream

effigies and pulled in seaweed.

Ah, seaweed.

My twilight

lover. Give extremely,

Pray perpetually

and perhaps Golgotha

won’t swallow the jackalope

Before he

Can try weed

for the first time. Oh Golgotha

in the effervescent twilight!

The cross’s perpetuating

limbs & extremities.

Upon that cross of Golgotha, twilight

presses a prefix of dreams to the seaweed-

bound jackalope, the sacrificial lamb of perpetuity.