Pay dirt
Pay phones
Pay the sitter for her time in hell
with the twins
You'll never earn enough
to call long distance
Unless you move to Italy
and live the dream
of making heart-shaped pizzas

Rather than place

it's how we face life
and survive

the gospel
words
and music

we choose
to comfort and sort

through
the confusion

piles of it

and the sling and
smooth stones

we use
to more than scotch
the snake

Whit Howland © 2020

I'm watching

the rubbed charcoal gray
being

rinsed away by darker
then
whiter lighter blue

to be over taken by
the pink and orange

of a technicolor sunrise

Whit Howland © 2020

Just something simple
a coil

of copper wire wrapped
around a spool

married
to other mongrel parts

anything
to receive
and broadcast

the word

the song

the good news

Whit Howland © 2020

Let me do nothing to
disrupt the flow

a truck is stuck

the tires spin
throwing up mud

the deeper down
it goes

we are now
mired in the image


Whit Howland © 2020

Better yet
why

am I here

rays

of sunlight

refract

through
the frosted glass

of

a louvered window

Whit Howland © 2020

Night or day
you pick

star as wonder
star as pinprick

of light

as diamond
in a crown of lesser
jewels

you'll see
what you want to see

until the sight
of it

serves you

no more

Whit Howland © 2020