Poets are quite communal, gathering anywhere where words are spread, by anyone. No seriously, don’t use words. The poets will come. They’re already here. Quiet.
Do no get poets wet.
Do not feed poets after midnight.
Your new poet has a life-time warranty, if anything should happen to your poet, play Dust in the Wind upsettingly loud while gazing sorrowfully out a rain covered window. This will stabilize them so you can send for help.
A poet has three heads. The first is a normal human head. The second only comes out when no one is looking at them. the third is venomous and completely invisible.
Do not stand too closely to a poet’s third head. They are feral.
The longest poem was written in 1693 by Ashbury Madison in order to give her an excuse to have enough parchment to craft an escape rope. After her successful abandonment of her cell, the guards called it “strangely resonant, if long winded.”
Deaths due to feral poet attacks are up this year.
If you support local poets, you can be sure your money is going to a good cause. Your local poets won’t tell us what that cause is, but they are winking and nodding as I type this. “Yeah, that’s right, a real *good* cause” they say.
Sometimes poets don’t have anything to say, that’s when the gibbering occurs.
DO NOT APPROACH A GIBBERING POET.
Vampire rules apply if the poet is gibbering. If bit, you will be undead, wander the night forever, be able to turn into fog and a bat, and suddenly develop a taste for Robert Frost.
Your poet is best kept at room temperature, between 50 and 90 degrees, though some poets may handle extremes better than others.
Your poet is completely recyclable!
Please recycle your poets. We are tired of cleaning them up off the bottom of tables.
