Chicago Review 46:1
                     SPRING 2001
 
 
 
 
 
 

                     TOM PICKARD
 

                     BORDER CROSSING

                     I dreamt Roy Fisher told me 
                     when you cross the border into England 
                     the first word you see 
                     is DAGENHAM. 

                     They could have found 
                     a better one than that. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

                     GUTTERSNIPE 

                     and as I passed 
                     the bruised cloud 
                     flipped up from a ditch 
                     I knew every gutter 
                     that over-flew a drain 
                     ended in a river 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

                     STINKHORN

                     a sun struck stinkhorn 
                     sticky with flies 
                     thrust up under 
                     the skirt of an oak