Howie Good



‘ALL POETRY. . . IS PRAYER’

1
At the end of the sentence
was another sentence,
& at the end of that sentence
was another, & so on,
until the moon rose,
fox tails hanging
off the handlebars.

2
There’s a word,
a small word,
drunk all the time,
smiling stupidly
amid coffins
covered in flowers.


POST-IMPRESSIONIST

A farmer hid you from the Germans. You spent long, empty hours curled up inside a flower, resigned to headaches and insomnia. When you returned to Paris after the war, the people on the street were just shadows. You had finally discovered the color of the atmosphere. It’s dull yellow, almost pumpkin.


THROUGH A GLASS BRIGHTLY

The best music is inaudible,
a little boy pedaling his bicycle
after a delivery van.



Howie Good, a journalism professor at SUNY New Paltz, is the author of the new poetry collection, Dreaming in Red, from Right Hand Pointing. All proceeds from the sale of the book go to a crisis center, which you can read about here: https://sites.google.com/site/rhplanding/howie-good-dreaming-in-red
 
 
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