Hungry Slingshots

Burnt Orange Ablaze Across the Cringe-Worthy Present, white fog floods the interiors of letters … Vouch for yourself! What is to be done? Lower the flags of convenience. Under its own cover, Hungry Slingshots em-Bards with an earful of birdsong - ka-ha; ka-ha kuh-uk!; kuh-uk! - while a shouting economist levitates the Earth into an equation. Squelching the sanctimonious no-nos of poetry, Hungry Slingshots says: go on, amass, roil in, perturb any "sham, I mean, shame" sense of proportion - flop around in a crowd of innocents caught in a net worth of words translating history. Snark, bleat!