by Howie Good
Between her thighs
a golden evening
300,000 flags fluttering
from the windows
Showing posts with label Howie Good. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Howie Good. Show all posts
Friday, April 1, 2011
Friday, July 23, 2010
DARKER
by Howie Good
Night,
a black-
suited
limo driver
going
wherever
ordered
to go,
drives
away
with eyes
closed
and
the back
seat
empty.
Night,
a black-
suited
limo driver
going
wherever
ordered
to go,
drives
away
with eyes
closed
and
the back
seat
empty.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
PROTOCOL OF A NEW AESTHETIC
by Howie Good
Take a fur-lined cup,
crack one blue eye like an egg into it,
the wet snores of philosophy,
until a brown haze envelops everything
you see (by you, I mean me),
closets of children’s clothes,
an old-fashioned summer garden,
then just when the panic picks up speed,
the air convulsing for your pleasure,
reverse the words inscribed on the heart
of the sailor crucified in the rigging,
and there’ll be shadows like daggers,
birds eaten by the sky,
big flames in lieu of flowers.
Take a fur-lined cup,
crack one blue eye like an egg into it,
the wet snores of philosophy,
until a brown haze envelops everything
you see (by you, I mean me),
closets of children’s clothes,
an old-fashioned summer garden,
then just when the panic picks up speed,
the air convulsing for your pleasure,
reverse the words inscribed on the heart
of the sailor crucified in the rigging,
and there’ll be shadows like daggers,
birds eaten by the sky,
big flames in lieu of flowers.
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