Poem by Roy G. Guzmán

June 12, 2013

after Belle & Sebastian’s “The Stars of Track and Field?


Taking heed to Belle & Sebastian’s advice

I made brochures & created new cults,


three of them. At first getting enough volunteers

was a hassle, but after the idea sunk in


some contacted their friends & before long

I had groups of people regularly baking brownies.


I had them advertised on Facebook

with a few going around to put up new flyers


next to some kid-is-missing flyer on a utility post

& nachos were never missing from our meetings.


The first sacrifice we ever made involved a saltshaker.

Someone’s soul dimensions were sold by the third meeting


of the second cult. A girl wrote a book in Mayan

language after a month & a hurricane was unleashed


from a jar soon after. Mojitos took over our meetings.

Nothing is sure in a group.


We often Skyped about a member having a nightmare

the night after our meetings. At a Barnes & Noble


I remember running once into a redhead, readying herself

to breastfeed her child, an avid member. She said


she dreams in flowers but she gets stuck in the petals

before she can remember the point of why she’s breastfeeding


a child that isn’t hers. This is proof that nothing is certain.

A recent study has confirmed the unpleasant relationship


between stupidity & other misdemeanors. Losing a friend

through Facebook speaks to your inadequacies as a cult leader.


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