Howie Good Excavating KafkaImaginary Landscape No. 1
We used to do it on the floor, and up against a wall, and with you sitting on a stool. I miss our old spontaneous frenzies, trees rocking in the wind. Sure, the past exists, but only as a ghostly tapping or as something to be looked at with one eye from the other side of the glass, imaginary landscape No. 1, the First United Church of the Lost and Delusional, operators standing by 24/7.
Drops
I have been an anxious eyewitness to my own deterioration for some time now. Only the drops I take for pain make me seem blah or, more precisely, blasé. I walk with a hitch as if assembled from poorly machined parts by someone who couldn’t be bothered to read the assembly instructions. It would be wonderful to start over again but without a face apparently modeled on the exaggerated features of a Kabuki mask. The doctors are little help. My primary asks hurried questions requiring lengthy replies to which she has no time to listen. I’d like to tell her there’s grass – and maybe there is – under the snow.
Drops
I have been an anxious eyewitness to my own deterioration for some time now. Only the drops I take for pain make me seem blah or, more precisely, blasé. I walk with a hitch as if assembled from poorly machined parts by someone who couldn’t be bothered to read the assembly instructions. It would be wonderful to start over again but without a face apparently modeled on the exaggerated features of a Kabuki mask. The doctors are little help. My primary asks hurried questions requiring lengthy replies to which she has no time to listen. I’d like to tell her there’s grass – and maybe there is – under the snow.
Hand JiveHowie Good is the author of Failed Haiku, a poetry collection that is the co-winner of the 2021 Grey Book Press Chapbook Contest and scheduled for publication in summer 2022.
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