Verdad Magazine Volume 9
Fall 2010, Volume 9
Poetry by Howie Good
Notes For a Poem That Will Never Be Written
1
The moment
you look away,
everything becomes
something else,
Swedish ball
bearings,
the sound
of pounding
on the door
maids waiting
at bus stops,
the golden oak
that served
as the hanging
tree.
2
You start
to make
a list of all
the things
night knows,
but stop
at a better
word
for fucking.
3
White light floods
the engine room.
All love is piracy,
the compass
in a criminal rage,
good boys and girls
walking the plank,
the heart dragging
dead oceans
with torn nets.
4
A goat,
a chicken,
and a fox
crossing
a river
in a boat
pass an Uncle
Sam on stilts
taking slow-
motion strides.
The County Fair
opens
with the sound
of a shell
being jacked
into the chamber.
Don’t be afraid
to shoot
through a wall
or door either.
And always
remember,
the black-faced
sheep know
all kitchens have
large knives.
Bad Timing
The fires drove
the coyotes down
from the hills.
I never realized
until I read it
that the shorter
the shells,
the more rounds
you can load.
We should have
left before what
I took for a tree
turned back
into a man.
A Tiny Question
The weather hasn’t
been cooperating.
Fire leaps the barriers.
With every breath,
we risk an unwanted
invitation. You can’t
remember the name
of that principle
of physics either.
Back then, you were
you and someone else.
I have a question.
It’s three months.
Why isn’t my eye
any better
BIO: Howie Good is the author of a full-length poetry collection, Lovesick, and 21 print and digital poetry chapbooks. With Dale Wisely, he is the co-founder of White Knuckle Press, http://www.whiteknucklepress.com