I am a poet before I am anything else—this being less a label + more a calling. I am concerned with words + language that dissolve boundaries, transmuting trauma + pain through narrative + the spaces in-between sounds that point toward the known but unsayable.


These things will never happen quite like that again

2017 // a novel in verse

Published by LETTERSAT3AMPRESS + Illustrated by Liesel Plambeck


"In this vital new collection of poems by Ash Good, desire for the sacred, desire for oneness with the Beloved, becomes a journey and a story. This journey/story begins with visionary observations such as “the universe fits in that two-man tent,” and concludes with the epiphany-like acknowledgment of “the gauze/of the thing/that connects everything.”  Here, inner life and outward existence—spirit and body—are both given their due in a voice as spare and natural as Gary Snyder’s, as insightful and alchemical as Rumi’s. Open These Things Will Never Happen Quite Like That Again, read it cover to cover, and enter the sacred and sensuous space created by this gifted poet. You will want to reside there."

—Gail Wronsky, author of So Quick Bright Things


“Imagine Frank O’Hara reincarnated as some female Kerouac vision-questress rolling through the West [...] who knows that “magic” lives “in the verisimilitude” of every moment, whether it’s one of transporting erotic satori or the precise I-do-this-I-do-that kensho of quotidian chore. [...] Even the title is less a memento mori than a memento vivere.  Moments bloom into double-take beads on a string that remind us to recognize why, when fully and openly entered, some acts are too sacred to name. Genre doesn’t matter here. Journey does: into the heart of remembering both the point of and method for everything: love.

—Sarah Maclay, author of Music for the Black Room



available for purchase at



years grew a keloid

2014 // a chapbook of contemporary folk poems

Cover illustration by Momo Juniper Hurley


There is always a hydrangea
front right flower bed next to the gate
consumed by Morning Glory
a woman comes to the garage sale and says
That sure is an unusual color for a hydrangea
then her and gran talk about the weather
you like to think
that your hydrangea
is rare

The Soil Where You’re Planted (p. 12)


“The voice of a medicine girl
all grown up . . . ”

—Jazmin Aminian Jordan, LettersAt3AMPress