Two Poems from Howie Good

MORPHINE & HONEY

I should quit this shitty job.
She should slip off her dress.
Where there’s nothing,
there should be something,
a delta of morphine and honey,
the flickering fluorescent light
of a crinkly yellow flower.
I should fall asleep beside her
and sometime later wake up in the dark
and not know what city I’m in.

 

(LOVEIS LIKE)

summers off
& the gene
for left-
handedness,
a check
on the fridge
made out
to me
for thirty-three
bucks
& the row
of white
hollyhocks
against
the red bricks.

Howie Good, a journalism professor at SUNY New Paltz, is the author of four poetry collections, most recently Dreaming in Red from Right Hand Pointing. He is also the author of numerous chapbooks, including The Devil’s Fuzzy Slippers from Flutter Press and Personal Myths from Writing Knights Press. He has two other chapbooks forthcoming, Fog Area from Dog on a Chain Press and The Death of Me from Pig Ear Press. In addition, he is editor oftwenty20 journal and co-publisher of White Knuckle Press with Dale Wisely and co-editor of cur-ren-cy with Wisely and F. John Sharp.

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