Limbo

I was lost in the deep woods of paranoia, and with no one to remove a wasp’s stinger from my finger except drunks in wobbly orbit. They called me Andy the Grape, though that isn’t my name or favorite fruit. I would never use the phrase “corridors of power” when conversing like that with strangers for fear one of them might be a government snitch. I am everything you don’t want to be – old, white, male, and presumed guilty. The border between minutes and eons is gone, if it ever existed. Children have started molting in its shadow.

Howie Good is a professor emeritus at SUNY New Paltz whose newest poetry book, The Dark, is available from Sacred Parasite, a Berlin-based publisher.