A World of Pain, Howie Good

Blindfolded ponies pull steel carts of stupendous weight while being tormented by slaughterhouse flies. I let it all in, all the red dots, all the cries of pain, all the sickening smells. In reaction, faceless functionaries have revoked my membership in the Cloud Society. I just pretend it didn’t happen, isn’t happening still. Clouds passContinue reading “A World of Pain, Howie Good”

Martyrdoms, Howie Good

1Still anxious, lonely, unoriented two years after coming to America, my grandfather’s only brother, a barber by trade, killed himself by leaping off the 59th Street Bridge. “What would make someone leave all this?” the family would uselessly wonder. His body washed up just a block away. We are always somewhere. 2What a sight itContinue reading “Martyrdoms, Howie Good”