I dream about it every night.

I dream about spools of shiny silver string.

I dream about lightning is the music I try to sing.

I know, because I remember, because a lot to me.

I never knew you could see such things when you're eyes don't let you see.

Autumn rhapsody
your neuroleptic sayings
beat the melody

In 2019,
I want more.

Want more sunrises
More rolling out of bed with a purpose

More afternoons curled in a love seat

I want a garden
inside me and in my backyard

More friends
More nuzzles from dogs

More oceans

More allowance to make mistakes
After all, you were brave enough to try.

More stillness
More belly laughs
More love letters

More sway in my hips
Cool breeze on my lips

More looking in the mirror to see my smile
not the width of my thighs

More finding shapes in the clouds

More moments that leave me breathless

More life
All the painfully messy beautifully chaotic morsels
dripping from my chin

In 2019,
I want more.

Life
                                                            ­    has
            a
                       funny
     way
                                           of
                                  
                                ruining

      
                                                      Lives.

pony-tailed playmate
head tucked in her shirt
gazing steadily down
at her toes in the dirt

chaos tiptoes around her
naive oblivion
journeys in far away lands
just west of the meridian

watercolor fairy tales
bleeding outside the lines
unaware of the danger
unaware of the signs

let me sit with you, darling
in the dampened flower beds
and paint a new world
for us in our heads

He poured the coffee
Into the cup
He put the milk
Into the cup of coffee
He put the sugar
Into the coffee with milk
With a small spoon
He churned
He drank the coffee
And he put down the cup
Without any word to me
He emptied the coffee with milk
And he put down the cup
Without any word to me
He lighted
One cigarette
He made circles
With the smoke
He shook off the ash
Into the ashtray
Without any word to me
Without any look at me
He got up
He put on
A hat on his head
He put on
A raincoat
Because it was raining
And he left
Into the rain
Without any word to me
Without any look at me
And I buried
My face in my hands
And I cried

Let my silence teach you

what my words

did not

more of us
more to miss
the more the merrier
more guests

more of you
more like this
more of the same
more or less

more of the life
more with you
more of a home
more like I knew

more of it all
more for me
more of the dark
no more to see

more of everything
more and more and more
until its more like nothing
anymore

He pulls up the stoop
the doors slide shut
the wheels turn

the silver cars lurch
the last whistle blasts

too late

there's no grousing
no second-guessing
and no need for tears

whit howland © 2020