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!

EVERY THING

Did absolutely everything

Wrong

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

Bell

Back to back tech technology

Somebody shut those puppets up