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Three Poems by Howie Good

By 

Howie Good

‍When Fake News Becomes Real

It’s important to test during the day whether or not you're dreaming. You probably won't look like the real you. Chances are you will be in somewhat of a panic. Check that the doors and windows of your house are locked. Start naming the things in the room. Is there a window where a painting is supposed to be? Remind yourself that you are not going crazy. Try to notice the cold, wet sensation. If you can't after fifteen minutes, just sit or stand there. Signal to somebody to help you as best you can.

A Loss of Faith Brings Vertigo

What kind of conclusions can you draw when you’re watching the sun go down? Or you’re watching the sea or the forest? They’re certainly things that keep me up late. I want to go totally nuts, shout “Fuck yeah!” But, of course, what happens? I begin to feel dizzy. There’s now a cookbook of everything Brad Pitt has eaten in a movie. The guy who runs the souvenir shop in the basement next to the bathrooms seems unimpressed. He pictures himself lying in the shade of beautiful trees. It’s a place I’d go as well if I just knew how to get there.

Dark Tourism

Remember me? I was like, “Who are these people?” The market was full of blood. There are people who are attracted to the places where bad things have happened – schools, ball fields, parks. I was in despair, deep despair, my arms outstretched in the manner of Goya’s peasant before the firing squad. Don’t worry, someone said, sugar can help if you have problems with shaking or trembling. I don’t know that I have time for that. Another person dies in a war every hundred seconds.

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Issue 16

published 

September 22, 2017

Howie Good is the author of Dangerous Acts Starring Unstable Elements, winner of the 2015 Press Americana Prize for Poetry. His most recent books include A Ghost Sings, a Door Opens from Another New Calligraphy and Robots vs. Kung Fu from AngelHouse Press. He co-edits White Knuckle Press with Dale Wisely. 

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Issue 16

This writing was originally published in Opium Magazine, and is not listed in the Lit.cat archives.
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