Dostoevsky gambled with the sweaty desperation of an addict. He would start out winning at the tables, but usually end up losing big and having to pawn his watch for money to get home. In their files, the Czar’s secret police made fun of his scrawny beard, among the worst in Russian literature. Some days, I just wake up sad.
Howie Good
The Gambler
About the Author
Howie Good’s newest poetry collection, Frowny Face, is a synergistic mix of his prose poems and handmade collages from Redhawk Publications. His previous poetry collections have won a number of poetry awards, including the Press Americana Poetry Prize. He is a professor emeritus in the Digital Media and Journalism Department at SUNY New Paltz.