My brain is a bit frazzled so I can’t come up with any fresh material today. Just so I don’t leave y’all completely in the lurch, here’s a poem I wrote a couple of years ago making its Poison Spur debut.

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Edward Scissorhands at the Petting Zoo

Pools of fresh blood
With fur afloat
Sliced-up llama
And lamb and goat
Punctured bladders
Are spewing piss
His friendly touch
Has gone amiss

The bleats of pain
Have made him weep
Arteries gush
And organs seep
“There there,” he says
And pats its head
Which comes clean off
Another dead

O woe to him
With scissored hands
Now caked with gore,
Sinew, and glands
Do not assume
A spelling error
When reading this:
‘Twas shear terror

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