ANOTHER PIECE OF USELESS ADVICE
The same rain falling on us
with dreary sincerity
fell on the Great Dead, so-called
despite there being nothing
great about being dead.
Write every day, I was taught.
Better yet, the rain said,
trigger various car alarms,
and whatever the point of two
or more exclamation points in a row is,
browse the pawnshops
and the green spray of hills,
forgetting, if you can, the children
at the gates of the orphanage.
Editor’s note: This poem appeared in a previous issue.
Howie Good is the author of Dangerous Acts Starring Unstable Elements, winner of the 2015 Press Americana Prize. His latest book is A Ghost Sings, a Door Opensfrom Another New Calligraphy. He co-edits White Knuckle Press with Dale Wisely.