Joey Gould volunteers for the Massachusetts Poetry Festival in Salem and tutors writing at Framingham State University. He enjoys spontanious art and has composed poems alongside an improv comedy troop. Whenever his poetry friends have a crazy idea for an event, like a poetry circus, an poems-on-demand table at an art opening, or a belly-dancing interpretive set, he gets the call. His poetry therefor appears, but often disappears later.

Sample Poem:

Stop the Car

I'm on route 20
and it's dark with a smattering of headlights,
dots shining on the radar screen.
The steering wheel hurts my hands,
and it's 28 degrees, the radio man says.

In Baghdad, it's 28 degrees
Celsius not Fahrenheit.
A despot is condemned to death,
another raindrop in the monsoon.

My eyes wander off the road
and in the midnight sky a flash
and a trail of a falling star
space trash or meteorite?
These things don't matter much
I still make a wish

28 degrees?
It's cold or it's beautiful
Saddam is dead?
Sunnis break their curfew to vow revenge
Shiites break their curfew to shoot their guns
in elated joy. Both sides will explode themselves
the very next day.

I stop the car,
and call you, my love, just to listen
to something besides the radio voice drone
because it's cold and I'm lonely
whether I saw space trash or a star.