Still Life With Grapes

A Poem by Howie Good

              —for Barbara  

In the last little bit of woods
where I sometimes walk our dog,

stepping over the beer cans
& take-home Styrofoam containers,

I found today a cluster of wild grapes
shining darkly in the dimness.

I picked one and it was good.
Maybe you’re right,after all,

about there being
life on other planets.

The Fires of the Evening

A Poem by Howie Good

I like how your legs
wrap around me
like the last beautiful evening,

how I’m the day world
delving into shadow,


when we toss
like a small green boat
on a vast yellow sea,

everything is bathed
in red violet.

(Editor’s note: in the spirit of giving, I feel the following is important: a link to one of Howie Good’s favorite charities, The Crisis Center, Birmingham, Alabama: