Explosion in the Puzzle Factory by Howie Good

What I’d like to do if I could is grab a policeman and walk him on a leash down the avenue. Instead, a guy leaps out at me. “What’d you say?” he demands. The more I stare at his face, the more it resembles a carnival mask, green, violet, and pink. Clocks can be heard to howl. I guess we have to learn to love the dark. We’re all up to our necks in it. E. Dickinson, in a ultra-black pinafore, approaches on a sleepwalk with the alphabet prowling around her. It just happens. No one planned it. And then? And then the deer are fat and ready for eating.

Howie Good
Howie Good is the recipient of the 2015 Press Americana Prize for Poetry for his latest collection, Dangerous Acts Starring Unstable Elements.
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