Published in the illustrated book of the same name, by Git yer socks outta my washer press

	another tree a temptress flies in a gully of simple sully
	exiting the bar found them wilted
	gummed thats my verb

	In plumped plums scurry back lil' jack of box my love
	towards a gully of sodium
	sour shadow dripping skyward
	curling she waivered with the plumb the rind the pork
	too quickly they thought he had opened the gut
	nitrous crossed love in king ludds palace
	disoriented but fulla hope

	Honey my sweet, lust of bland rinds
	sweet industry,   one rounder down
	pork in gully, one rounder down
	and then in a moment of canned laughter, foulness arose from the set of teeth yellow
	fins of tin cutting the waters edge with rusted beats
	she coaxed the fish out, saw it's silvery eye

	confused little boy
	as fast as rounder bound the last one ditched the tine of forks
	beats cutting beats in half
	coy on the street,  sleeping bag full of rinds
	rushed toward the organic nature of steel and her mothers hips sunken in shallow waters
	rushes towards cutting beets

	the tattered cap tossed delighted fools
	got springered in the background
	far bounder the last past wedge of cheese failed to come with me
	stole in the grill by a lb. of ground rinds
	running to find that the eggs had hatched, crack, crack.

Participants:

I angst l: rushes
Eardrumbuz: foulness
Orko57: temptation
Stocker4: plumbing
NHennies: dolphin spurt
Dadanoise: porkrinds
I big b l: signals