Two Poems by Howie Good


Dance is largely about being still.
Do you have a cellphone
in case something goes wrong?

To get red,
you need dust
and haze.

Pollution makes
the sunset
so beautiful.

I’m not interested
in making this
interesting to you.

Yes, I’m still smarting
over you leaving.

A shadow was combing
its hair in the mirror.
I woke up the next day
with glass in my bed.

One bird sang
just as good as another,

the leaves so green
they were almost black.

An empty car stalled at a light.
Row, row, row your boat.
It was still dark though I did.

I look out the window,
not consciously listening
for the piercing shrieks
of a woman being violated,
the first shovelful of dirt
hurled into a grave.

From now on, you’ll make love only to men
who don’t change their underwear,
everything will have a double meaning,
vaguely bullet shaped and daffodil yellow.


Grandpa would have deserted her if he had been able to manage stairs on his own. The goldfish in the bowl on the kitchen windowsill were always dying. He begged me not to leave him there. What a terrible moment. I said to his nurse, God must be a serial killer. After the funeral, everybody was talking mostly about the moon landing. It was such a sad time. Tell me whereabouts I can find it.

Profile: Howie Good

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s