John C. Goodman

John C. Goodman
sometime

did she know what she
would find in the
barn . headless hours stacked
against the wall . roofbeams
dangling . forever tossed
casually aside . meaning
leaking from fresh
wounds . did she hear
it . or was it a
feeling . that something was
wrong . were the daffodils
particularly yellow that
day . was the rain lost
in the distance . ?

decisions

armoured cars are important . so are daisies in an august field . fireflies on july nights . stars freshly washed with rain . cluster bombs . the name of the checkout girl at the supermarket . the taste of vinegar on a lettuce leaf . the sun highlighting the hairs on an arm . operations . drive-by shootings . tooth decay . the pattern of frost on a february window . the song playing in the background while shopping for analgesics . leather . fillet of salmon with lemon and dill . helicopter gunships . the blues . a letter from a Member of Parliament outlining the party’s successes . without mentioning the failures . syrup . they brought it on themselves . road-sweeping will be conducted overnight on the following streets . the tracks have been torn up . emotionally remote . now we’re getting down to it . tire-chains are required in the mountain passes . bridge ices over before the road . it’s colder when the wind blows . suicide bomber kills 46 . the price of oil is up again . how to say ‘I love you’ in five languages . sometimes the fishermen don’t return .

John C. Goodman lived in British Columbia and Ontario before settling in Newfoundland and Labrador. He has published a novel, Talking to Wendigo (Turnstone Press). His stories, poems and essays have appeared in The Fiddlehead; elimae; Centrifugal Eye; TorkStar; 3:am Magazine; Dogmatika; Zygote in My Coffee; Blacklisted; and other magazines in Canada and the US. He is the editor of ditch, (www.ditchpoetry.com), an online magazine of avant-garde poetry and editor of Trainwreck Press.