Poetry by Howie Good

The Hurt

It was spring, almost. Children were drunk at the dinner table on potent Passover wine. All anyone could talk about was the pollen. The gods were dead, perished with their band in a plane crash. Rumors spread online that the Agency was involved. The birds in the treetops felt a lingering dread. I asked Google if rainbow rhymes with potato. The answer was, “Not exactly.” Some hurts just never stop hurting.


— by Howie Good

Copyright ©2024, by Howie Good. All Rights Reserved.

Howie Good’s latest book, Frowny Face (Redhawk Publishing, 2023), is a mix of his prose poems and handmade collages. He co-edits the online journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.

Poetry by Howie Good
Scroll to top