Sniffer dogs find archaisms in the rubble. It seems you never know where you might encounter a god splattered with blood and men’s brains. There’s nothing all that odd anymore about seeing a piano being chopped up for firewood. Each week brings less faith in the value of paper money, but also a visit from a woman with a backside like a pear. What next? A town so small it doesn’t have a priest? The ransacking of children’s bodies? Sunset devolving into querulous flames? Contact me with suggestions.

 

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Howie Good is a poet whose latest volume is The Complete Absence of Twilight (2014) from MadHat Press. He has several poetry books forthcoming, including Fugitive Pieces (Right Hand Press) and Buddha & Co (Plain Wrap Press).