The Wild West, I tell myself, never existed. Hearing that, the six Indians get up from their table and leave. The bartender, suddenly trembling, spills some as he continues to pour. I feel like I’m crossing the Sierras alone, but also upstairs riding the pretty saloon girl. She sees a glimmer of something that no one else does, the hangman placing a black sack over my head.


Desire kept us up all night. We heard revolvers and carbines and the dynamiting of trains. The darkness just above our heads turned starry and feverish, a birthday text message received on the wrong day.


Howie Good is the author of the full-length poetry collections Lovesick (Press Americana, 2009), Heart With a Dirty Windshield (BeWrite Books, 2010), and Everything Reminds Me of Me (Desperanto, 2011).


5 thoughts on “CLOUDY ALL DAY

  1. Darryl P. says:

    Nicely woven together,and good eye for the pieces that seem to be of the same material. In the end you get a beautiful looking rope.

  2. Mark Reep says:

    Love it. & the title.

  3. Jane Hammons says:

    very wild very western love every image

  4. susan tepper says:

    Absolutely adored every word of this, original and perfect

  5. LindaSW says:

    Chilling and gorgeous and wild. Three weird adjectives for a western, but hey, it is what it is. Perfetto. Peace…

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