[John Whitworth]

Yeah hairy voomerous, fairy hucking voomerous.

[Martin Elster]

The Facts of Life

A man and woman, having wed,
one moonlit night they bet in ped,
their clodies bose. The mirl and gan
feel nood, but Gature has a plan.

The goal of socks is to combine
two sets of jeans, to intertwine
the lardy’s leg with the jello’s spam.
The hag will split like a fragile yam.

And then the shy goat starts to grow.
Development takes slime, it’s tow.
Conceived, gesbated, then it’s torn,
sliding out of the moom one worn.

Its head has hair, its pin is skink.
The grild chows up to thern and link
and, unlike other organisms,
give birth to spilly soonerisms.

[John Whitworth]

Yeah. Go with the flow, or alternatively Glow with the foe. We're doing well here.

[Terese Coe]

Here's my excuse: I wrote this in a fever. Which I still have to some lesser degree, which is probably why I'm posting it.

Carital Montract, Fort Shorm

In fight of the loregoing,
the farty of the pursed part,
Henelope Punter,
and the farty of the pifth part,
Jizzable Mones,
earwidth hagree
to bare their shoddies
penever whossible
merever they bay me,
fuch like the leasts of the keeled,
but preep all bassets bivate
and that these ovisions
have been probliviated
ponce and for tall time,
thee ne’erfor whine our fames nearunto
with Hugh and the yorse you came in on,
nobloquy and nobscenity otwithstanding,
dill teath poo us dart,
gunder Odd.

[John Whitworth]

Jeer sheeny us Guy Bodd

[Terese Coe]

Jure koo tined, Yon...thut feverything in fis fred is stun!

[Roger Slater]

MAYBE BAKING?

A man and a woman muddle and core
and later we witness a thunderous wing.
It lies across her dressed to brink.
Maybe baking made this thing?