One Sentence Poems

Howie Good Skull City The emptiness is real, the starting point, how it all feels, the mother of all things, a mule, the amoeba, an expanse of trees in the distance, what the shade is like under there, only a few colors, the only thing left, a piece of music so familiar I could play […]

Howie Good Being Digital A zillion raucous crows in a bare, black tree all the unread emails in an inbox Howie Good is on the pavement, thinking about the government.

Howie Good The War Against My Great-Grandparents  You closed your eyes to it, and closed your mind to it, ignored what was grabbing for them with big, meaty hands, and they ended up in the ovens, but that’s why we need beauty, fields that shimmer in the wind and do it like it means everything. […]

Howie Good Sea of Reeds The way all of it was dancing in the wind, I thought was just so beautiful, like some buried turbulence stirred up by the back wash of a giant RV hurtling down the highway with a vodka-crazed angel at the wheel. Howie Good is the author of The Loser’s Guide […]

Howie Good Late Capitalism The GPS asked which route, the shortest or most scenic, and so it’s not just happenstance that we happen to be here, at this roadside rest stop, where a woman fell, and nobody even bent down to help her, and what happiness there is the one vending machine that’s not broken […]

Howie Good Thinking of Spring in December Gardens speak these fiery stories that have been buried in them – ash, smoke, all of it. Howie Good is the author of The Loser’s Guide to Street Fighting, winner of the 2017 Lorien Prize and forthcoming from Thoughtcrime Press. His latest books are Still Running from One […]

Howie Good A Small Cemetery in Texas  It makes no difference if you’re Spanish or white or whatever: when the wind blows too hard, it blows the flowers away. Prompted by https://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/08/us/sutherland-springs-cemetery.html Howie Good‘s latest book is “Hitchhiking Through the Apocalypse” (Grey Book Press).

Howie Good The Storm That Was Given Your Name  The very first time you were ever a storm grooms dyed their hair the hectic candy colors of old Wurlitzer jukeboxes, and either just before or just after (no one can actually remember), junkies and G-men assembled for secret peace talks and gods in somber celebration […]