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Whit Howland Mar 2021
What is life
but one I never
knew

without
a stray bolt
or ball bearing

rattling
around
inside my head

whit howland © 2021
A minimal word painting. A bit of esoteric blues poetry.
Whit Howland Mar 2021
This poem
is about

a rouge
blushy
flushed
sunrise

and lots
of red
lipstick

and no cigarettes left
in the last
cigarette machine

known to

woman


it's six am
and yes

I am wide
awake

whit howland © 2021
An abstract word painting.
Whit Howland Mar 2021
In the morning I wake
to the beginnings
of a mid to late
March day

and that morning
muted like a trumpet
is sepia with snares and cymbals
coloring

the seconds
the minutes
the hours
with an improvisational crayon


whit howland © 2021
A Jazz word painting.
Whit Howland Mar 2021
To God
only known
we are

unknown
to everyone else

you are seeing
what  no one else
can view

thus

you now know
what he can only
know

sublime

whit howland © 2021
An abstract word painting.
Whit Howland Mar 2021
silver tin can
on thick

rubber wheels
frayed velvet seats

raw deal
memories

regrets
are plenty

nowhere
to go no sense

of place
or belonging

whit howland © 2021
A sparse word painting. An original,
Whit Howland Mar 2021
A moon not pale
but robust

or

dare I say
voluptuous

it's still snowy
in Wintertime

through this mountain
pass

so long ago

and I'm still crying
over spilled milk

whit howland © 2021
An impressionistic word painting.
  Mar 2021 Whit Howland
Thomas W Case
I want to get
the facts out.
The glass from under
my skin.
The rails from the
timber.
Just because I said
that your *** looks
nice in those jeans,
doesn't mean you
get to treat me like
*** crazed dog.
I gave you a compliment;
nothing more.
You're not an object.
And neither am I,
so don't talk to
me like one.
I'm not every
other guy you've
ever met.
Lift your eyes
a little higher,
that's where I am.
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