An early morning
revelation

carefree love is a myth
and

all we really
are

is just an amateur hand
at mock surgery

in a never ending game
of Jack Straws

always trying ever so diligently
not to

flip up the rake

Whit Howland © 2020

A starless sky
with the sun
on the dark side

of everyone's crazy
uncle

and an oily flame
might be all

it would take
to cheat

this night of fog
and shadows

Whit Howland © 2020

The clock is set
to a time

that like many other
things

is something we
had to not only
bite

but bite down
hard

on the bullet
and settle on

similar

to how
your face your
hair my

mismatched eyes
reminds

us both
that

there is no such
thing

as the perfect
Christmas tree

Whit Howland © 2020

What's left

no I won't
say

the word

only two syllables
yet so

powerful and so
interchangeable

and right now
the gate

keeper and arbiter
of what's sane

and what is not

Whit Howland © 2020

The right words
of appreciation

that is the rub
because

they must
be economical

while pure and
clear

your book of poems
tattered yet

loved

you words verse
short and sweet

though they
call out the demon

by name

Whit Howland © 2020

At this hour
the world is an
inkwell

ripe  
for a feather to *****
and draw blood

from

where am I what
am I

if I'm trapped between
morning
and evening

searching
chasing

answers

Whit Howland © 2020