Open to Sky

I refuse to call them ruins. The place is very much alive. I have whispered and pulsated with the waves, thoughts from the celestial realm. There aren’t even parking spaces big enough for them. I am not whatever anymore. I love to hear sounds bleeding, all the crazy out there in our world. I bet a lot of birds get confused. You need an index. If you don’t have an index, you don’t know anything. It’s like an archipelago – the islands are not connected at the top, but at the bottom of the ocean.

Howie Good, 2020

Remixed works:

Articles from hyperallergic, 6 & 7 November 2019

Data Dada

I walked for eight months, following a man who was carrying books on a donkey. I thought of it as my way of creating memories and putting them in my diary, except that I don’t have a diary. So, yes, it’s ironic. Now as I go around the city, I see cigarette butts and chewing gum on the pavement, and people clipping their fingernails in the subway. I mean, who would do that, leave their DNA all over the place for others to collect, analyze, store? It’s like the secret to keeping a secret is the only secret being kept.

Howie Good, 2019

Remixed works:

The Untold Story of the Woman Who Helped Make a Landmark Holocaust Film, by Josh Slater-Williams
An Unlikely Marriage of Science and Art,
by Anthony Haden-Guest

A God’s Eye

It could have been stolen. It could have been accidentally thrown out. Whichever, the God’s eye is gone. I’ve looked for it where things accumulate, where people leave things. Every house has a corner like that. I’ve been to the market, too. I’ve walked down those cobblestone streets. But I made a conscious decision not to give myself a plan B. I’ve tried everything I can. I can’t keep drowning, I just can’t. I pull up to a traffic light and see a flame thrower, and someone wanting to sell me little Popeye figurines. And in the end, the answer is no.

Howie Good, 2018

Remixed work:

Beer with a Painter: Alfredo Gisholt, by Jennifer Samet


Who owns the moon is a complicated subject. My first instinct was, what the hell? Did a rock hit it or something? My only dream was how to reach the shore safely. I was toying with various things on the submarine. And these were all out in the middle of the countryside set off from each other by wild vegetation or ornate gardens. Lots was happening at the same time – the TV on, a record playing, the radio on. “Wow,” I thought, “work is a pretty taxing place for many people.” We suddenly became archaic remnants of the pre-digital age. That was the hardest moment. But I didn’t really realize the implications of it when I was a teenager. We’ll never be more than unwitting missionaries, doing magic tricks to dazzle the crowd.

Howie Good, 2017

Remixed works:

New York Times article 1
New York Times article 2
Hyperallergic article 1
Hyperallergic article 2
Cape Cod Times article

The School of Apocalypse

There’s nothing natural about barbed wire
with a piece of horse’s mane stuck on it.
Or a grizzly bear using a highway overpass.
I don’t know what went wrong. It all keeps
bouncing back and forth. This could be my,
like, shamanistic, right-brain diabetes treatment.
Everyone says it’s unforgettable being
in the path of totality. Give me 10 minutes
so I can think about it more. I’m not really sure
if we could ever discover how to reach God
through exercise. You see charred black bodies
hanging from trees, and white folks picnicking
under them – young children smiling. And then
on the back of the postcard, “Wish you were here.”

Howie Good, 2017

Remixed works:
Hyperallergic article 1
Hyperallergic article 2
Hyperallergic article 3
Rapid City Journal article


I saw a black mass of smoke.
I felt the fire touching me through my window.
I heard a snap or a crackle.
I saw the flames rising.
A bird gave this to me because I freed her wing
from a tangle of balloons.

Stranded between one act and another,
jump, turn clockwise,
cut with the kitchen knife
through the beer belly of the Republic.
The more a visitor is willing
to play in my nightmare,
the more all of us will receive.
The island sinks now, but it’s still there
just beneath the waves.

They came and knocked on the door.
Why didn’t you open the door?
My daughter could have been in there bleeding.
I can’t keep doing this.
The bridge is going to collapse.
They’re saying I have to walk,
but it’s raining and dark.

Whatever happened here,
it was at the wrong time, wrong place.
This place is very dangerous.
I imagined that there might be someone with a gun.
Crowded places, we try to avoid.
Malls, we try to avoid.
So much is coming at us.
It’s like watching your heart outside your body.

Howie Good, 2017

Remixed works:
Hyperallergic article
AJC article
ABC News article
New York Times 1 article
New York Times 2 article

How the Heart Hardens

You move around like a fish,
searching for possibilities.

You should invest in failing.
Invest in losing. You should

create a room to get lost in,
a room where you lose names.

Don’t ask why something meant
something to you. That’s actually

not such a nice way to grow up.
If you go to bed with French fries,

you will lie there, thinking about
what it means. You have to be

the beast. There is a child world
that needs to be destroyed.

Howie Good, 2017

Remixed works:
Hyperallergic article

Techno 101

No. I don’t know what Pokémon Go is
and what all these things are…You’re talking
to somebody who made his first phone call
at age 17. You’re talking to someone who doesn’t

have a cell phone, for example, for cultural reasons.
Tell me about Pokémon Go. What is happening
on Pokémon Go? Does it tell you you’re here
at San Vicente, close to Sunset Boulevard?

But what does Pokémon do at this corner here?
When two persons in search of a Pokémon
clash at the corner of Sunset and San Vicente
is there violence? Is there murder? Physically,

do they fight? Do they bite each other’s hands?
Do they punch each other? I have no clue what’s
going on there. Yeah, you’d have to give me
a cell phone, which I’m not going to use anyway,

Howie Good, 2016

From an interview with Werner Herzog, on Hyperallergic

When Nothing is Cool

A time for nothing much,
one child teasing another,
twins committing suicide together,
a man drinking in the woods.

We dialed F-U- C-K- Y-O- U
and L-O- V-E- Y-O- U
to see what happened.

Someone called Vincent
rang at the door and gave his ear
in a folded piece of paper
to the person who came to open it,
saying, “Take it, it will be useful.”

Howie Good, 2016

Figurative Painting That’s Emphatically Human, from Hyperallergic
The Best Art Books to Read for Free in the NYPL’s New E-book App, from Hyperallergic
How Van Gogh’s Ear Incident Went Viral in 1888, from Hyperallergic