End of the Year

Well, we've just about wrapped up our first year here at Butchered Switch, and as we calmly survey the offices--the weeping interns, the wretching accountants--we know that everything has gone better than could have been expected. We've had it all, laughs, tears, withdrawal. And our commitment is firm--to continue our legacy of producing the most, best poetry read by the fewest and the craziest into the next year. Salut!

Did absolutely everything
Only in my head Had it goin on
As I did so it happened to me
and I did not speak, was not spoken too.
There were tears running down the street great fancy
Painted circus curtains many murals do contain
And the head of hair of the fray
And the inconvenience Intrusion by the old-man friend
This being me everything jumbles
Coffee rumbles from the shudder
Spilling onto the wood-box top Our table
The spot light splashed they were rocked in a pod-
Cast tone in bronze
Back to back tech technology
Somebody shut those puppets up

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