Fall 2006

Volume 1, Issue 2



The Roofers

for Gabriel

It isn’t the meaning
of these words
that matters
just the sound
like the hammering
from next door
a couple of roofers
on their knees
and racing the light
because it may be true
what they heard
tomorrow rain


A Few of My Favorite Things

Furtive glances and whispers,
bare, bereft trees,
unfaithful gods lolling about
a galaxy of tinfoil stars,
the dead from the newspaper
receding into white space
while strangers stare
at their inscrutable backs,
on my machine a voice
I don’t recognize announcing
a new age, though horses scream,
and it’s night, and the creek
overflows as with sudden tears.



Order Lovesick, a poetry collection by Howie Good here.



Back to Top
Review Home


© 2006 Americana: The Institute for the Study of American Popular Culture