I'll resist that apple

and other baubles
that distract me
from my pledge to you

to keep watering
yours and my
inspiration

which sometimes leads
us to cut  and prune

and strengthen what
is already here

rather than plant
something new

between
green and violet

as of the sky
or sea

on a sunny
day

but  i won't talk
about sadness

or melancholy
because this picture

was taken at a time
when you were the happiest

whit howland © 2021

Solid metal
painted bold bold colors

and details

like wheels
with whitewall tires

making it ready

to go to yesterday
and better points beyond

A handwritten letter a licked
stamp

old fashioned
yes

but not outdated
yet post-dated

with the red metal flag
pointing

to the sky and burning
like an Olympic torch

in anticipation
of your triumphal

return

whit howland © 2021

This is as much about me
as it is you

our erratic rhythms
giving original meaning

to a Harlequin Romance
as we both run

like hamsters on a wheel
or better

around like rats in a crazy box
trying to navigate life

whit howland © 2021

As though you were still here
I hear you
your voice
somewhere
between honey-laced tea
coffee
and burnt toast
it's almost
like we converse
in notes then
the rug
or an uptown taxi
you're gone
it's hard
but please
never let these late
night visits ever end

Whit Howland © 2019

Somewhere
between red and yellow

Albuquerque and Amarillo
we've run the gamut

you and I
the spectrum

hot and cold
happy and sad

and now
we've settled in the middle

just west of melancholy
with a little bit of rust

around the edges

I have a list
like one might take
to an auto parts store

jet
plane
traveled
quickly

the camera then
zoomed in
for a closeup

Whit Howland © 2020

They went by
so fast
the years and
I'm past all the
hard stuff the
rough stuff
and I just want
to remember all that
is good stuff like
the Barbary Coast
the Frontier and the Stardust
and Janice when she sang
not when she raged against
a dying sun so I'll
pull three cubes
from a bucket of ice
put them in a cheap
glass and watch as
some smooth stuff
splashes on the rocks

© Whit Howland 2019

A clown's makeup
cascading down his face
under a hot spotlight

your call so long ago
a Dear John Letter
mostly in audio

a broken vase
with its ceramic pieces
fanned out across the floor

thumbing through
a high school yearbook
and a picture of me and you

no logic no rhyme
no major scoop
to stop the presses

life
just goes on
in one eternal loop

whit howland © 2021

Dribble
care
luscious

against
a blinding white
refrigerator door

no

I don't care
that juice is dribbling
down my chin

it was so luscious
tasty
and flavorful

whit howland © 2021

balding head
crows feet
wisdom lines

this life my life
is light years away
as I sit on the edge of the boat

with feet on the dock
staring at it like Mars
Jupiter or maybe the moon

my mom my grandmother
and grandfather
still in tow

whit howland © 2021

Why are they
here

why are we
here

am I really
here

mysterious
could be a word

but whatever name
or term

they're most beautiful
when much is left

to an unbridled
imagination


Whit Howland © 2020

A concrete
melted

and a shattered coke bottle
with glass scattered

across the floor

Fields
of golden wheat

and a summer evening
on the porch

where two lovers
hands and fingers

hover each other
like moths around a flame

I've seen those paintings
of which you describe

the ones that you can just
walk right into and be a part of

you are that picture
for me

you can be a doctor
of letters

and never crack a book

just read what it says
in the think bubbles

many will tell you I'm crazy
because

I am here to smash
all those sacred statues and break
the most forbidden of taboos

just free your mind before it goes
flaccid

and please believe me when I try to
disabuse you

that it is possible to become Atlas
on a diet of bubblegum

and ding dongs

my aim is to show you how

Whit Howland © 2020

True friendship takes us
by the hand
and shows us
we are not alone

on the front lawn
in tandem
they do a loose-jointed
shuffle

I never wanted anything
more in life
except to be your
everything

perched on a roof
with eyes a google
they honk
like feathered *******

remember the joy
forget all the pain
and the tears and sadness
will wash themselves away

a steady stream
from a thick rubber hose
is all it takes to blast
those geese droppings
from the dock


whit howland © 2021

HONK
HONK

it jolts
the synapses

but oh yes
PEARS

and BANANAS

whit howland © 2021

The stationary space ship
or silver bullet train

of many youths

with incongruent and shiny
chrome

where they still serve
up

a healthy platter
of comfort

and warmth with a side
of truth

Whit Howland © 2020

You must be sure you know
just exactly where we are

two swarthy males
wearing El Padrino hats

and ranch wear
playing Flamenco guitars

in front of a peach
cream colored matte

leaning
into their strumming

you must be sure you know
just exactly where we are

but where we are
is lost in a network of caverns

made of stanzas
line breaks syntax and

other pesky devices
and useless knowledge

these men
their music

are the bread crumbs
we'll follow

no questions asked

Whit Howland © 2019

What we thought we
had

more of

a gold-plated
something

showed we never had
to begin with

a successful person doesn't
wear a watch.

Metal Parachute once
bloomed
now rusted

refuses

but  the Ferris Wheel
still winks at clouds

like newspaper headlines
crazy

or maybe just
nonsensical

The stove was hot

I saw the burner
and its fiery glow

no need to touch
but I did anyway

is it caution
we are throwing to the wind

when we trust
with no proof of wounds

or scars

whit howland © 2021

sticky with ****
resting

in its dish

the shower
running full blast

with the mirror
fogged and steamy

then

the hairdryer
blowing

more hot air

yes it's true
we've been having moments

but I'd like to think
of them

as growing pains

the stuff
that shapes and molds

Whit Howland © 2020

We all do
search that is

for the sand
that slipped

through
the hour glass

so I don't fault you
for walking the halls

room to room
don't worry

we'll see him again
and each other

A flag billows
gently

in a warm breeze
as a jet

silently makes it's way
across a blue sky

graying
at the edges of perception

I have no context
for you or
who you once were

I only know you in sepia tones
and grainy photography

today with your chipped sign  
and burned out neon

it's though
you are mute and dying

before my eyes


and you'll slip away
taking your secrets

and confessions
with you as you go

© Whit Howland 2019

If we just start
the conversation
you have my word

that all will be
okay
one day at a time

we can and will
stitch and suture
sweep

and broom away
the broken
pieces

I swear

whit howland © 2021

Something
about a snowy night
changes a boy for life

that late hour where
the air
is lit by a dry white flare

with
branches bare of leaves
but kissed with snow

and his vision now
is spare clear cold
and calculated

© Whit Howland 2019

Red hat
pulled over the  eyes

homespun clothes
and a white wavy beard

and every day as I walk by
I ask you

what's the good word

thinking someday
you will speak

and tell me how to find
the door

You say we worked it out
dodged a bullet

the big "D"and all that
and I'm so relieved

you see
that is why right now

I'm looking at a clear sky
with just a bit

of white marbling
amongst the blue

as opposed to something
pale and gray

whit howland © 2020

something to swivel
in my mouth

to use to pick out
food for thought

lodged
between my teeth

before I whittle
it/you down to size

then sweep away
the splinters

with my tongue

whit howland © 2021

you beg me
to write about
the sky and the grass
or better yet amber waves
of grain

the best i can do to
accommodate you
is paint the sunflowers
at the highway's edge

but not the ones on the
median
for some reason they seem
to have lost their luster

Whit Howland © 2020

Let's not assume
this to be about
exposing the truth

and how the naked light
makes the roaches
scatter

we're talking about
quotidian madness
and how one can float above it

and remain detached
and simplify the confusion
and complete the task

whit howland © 2021

a request
an urgent plea

not to focus
on minor details

to see the forest
for the trees

not to get
shall we say
lost

in the weeds

oh
what we can cobble
together

from all the  brush
we cut **** and clear

whit howland © 2021

In a chair he sits
with

sunlight on his
face

yet it's
still opaque

the twitch
of his eye

only
a MacGuffin

so don't expect
a revelation

because as someone
once

long ago said

what remains in the heart
must be obscure

Whit Howland © 2020

Back then they were no
angels

just Rorshach blots
in the snow

wingless
sometimes headless

never more than just an abstract
musing

coming going
in cold

sunlight
with a stiff wind

Whit Howland © 2020

I must've been faster
than a speeding bullet

more powerful
than a locomotive

and able to run between
the drops of rain

it gets farther away
with time

the life I narrowly
dodged

and with my memory
much foggier

then it used to be
all I can recollect

are the strips
of paint

dangling from the ceiling
like swords

Whit Howland © 2020

If I had brushes and a canvas
I'd paint it

a gathering
soiree or better yet

a ticker tape
parade

a celebration
of one's life well lived

and deserving of such
reverie

whit howland © 2020

Delicate
and powdery
across your surface

special
precious
timely

flower you are
cultivated
for your beauty

pure
good
divine

what we produce
is better late
than never

whit howland © 2021

Today the sky
was a glossy postcard blue

the sand
a fine and ivory white

the water
that

an outrigger slid across
as a conch shell horn
blew it into shore

was so clear
you could dive straight
to the bottom

off in the distance
Diamond Head rippled
like a pennant
in the warm subtle breeze

you are here

decades may come
and decades may go

but you will always be

Whit Howland © 2020

But I think the best was when
one end of the twine

was tied to my molar
and the other end to the ****

as the door slammed and wrenched
my tiny but gnarly tooth free

when one door slams  another
doesn't necessarily open

A hearth fire crackles
that is how I know
I’m not alone

because

the log glows bright
with warmth

that flows through the room

it’s that warm cheer
that makes me know

you are near
and that's because

you’ve never been far
this I know

something I’m positive

is true

Whit Howland © 2019

dare I say it
a ****** not a clang

as a breeze tiptoes
through the valley

and the tulips
yes

we've had some
rough times

but I think
they're behind us now

I've finally figured
it out

whit howland © 2020

brown on dusty mustard
clashes
with streaks of gray


we
drive through riding
the wave


haven't seen
a drop of rain
in days


sun bleaches boards
and bones
alike


© Whit Howland 2019

It's a deep cough
a wet

or is it a dry
whooping cough

maybe
it's more of a hack

so much tissue
oh so little time

life is such
a struggle

but
would we have it

any
other way

Cat
no tail
walks

sideways
along the porch

black or blue

in this light it's
hard to tell

You are no longer
here

but in my mind
you're the one point

I focus on to stop
the dizziness

when world spins
like a top

heading for the edge
of the table

whit howland © 2021

Black white
gray then black
again

then beige
and we are caught
in a vortex

a loop
of one color
and of one mind

so maybe throw
in some yellow
some blue

and let it mix
into green then
dark green

then lime
and back to green
again

from chaos
always comes
order

the world sees to it
and keeps it
that way

whit howland © 2020

It was the gray
and blue wrapper
so ugly

that made it
the Zero

the candy bar

nobody ever wanted
and because of that
nobody ever knew

how it tasted

but yet I miss it
just like the ability
to pull a lever

and hear
the crinkling sound
of candy coming down

the shoot