ROBERT POLLARD

driving, the

road's gone on vacation, leaving

unfortunate unhealed

gaps in the landscape for

ducklings to lean against-

when an absence is this strong

it's impossible to fall into

it- the ducklings pretend the

lack of a road to cross is

a mirror, making their feathers

speed-dial up a pretty

convincing afro of terror which

eventually becomes a dry sun-

a whole flock of lukewarm

suns that want to

be stars for the road to

deal with once it

comes back- wherever the

road went on its

time off was its business

-2/12/01

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GUIDED BY VOICES

damned by flowers

the sky is discarded like a ribbon

as the earth is flattened

out to wallpaper as it has

passed the aesthetic pleasure

test to be pasted up in

God's drawing room. The

flowers stare angrily up into

blackness, waiting for one

of the pain pricks of light

to teleport itself large

enough for the flowers to

catacomb their way to

God's warehouse-"Good riddance,

sky," each flower mumbled

to itself, "You irritated the

hell out of me- whoever

heard of a blue flower?"

-2/12/01

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