we need
we need

and i guess
there is no other way

to verbalize it
so i will just blurt it out

because as you can plainly see
things are coming down to the wire

folks it's like this
and sorry if this is a crude reference

but for the love of Pete
we need to

you know

or get off the ***

Whit Howland © 2020

My cat lies across my stomach
her eyes squint when I rub
the back of her head with
my thumb

when she's had enough
she jumps off my chest
makes for the table
and parks herself dead center

it was sunny today
but that is a mere distraction
right or wrong
better or worse

she's my child
my life
the center
of my universe

Whit Howland © 2020

It's all a matter of what
trumps what

your questions about me
and why I'm here

versus my thoughts about
the concrete stumps of

what it once was
and from there

none of this is what you think

I'm not longing for a lost road trip
down Route 66

nor am I lamenting about
a structure ravaged by time

I'm merely wondering
where she went

is she down in the basement
or did she go out for a walk

and should I look for her
or should I  

leave things be

Whit Howland © 2020

Light and simple
in its construction

and efficient
in the wind

as it catches
a current

and soars doing
loops

and arcs
before it crashes

to the floor
with yet

another failed pass  
at heaven

Whit Howland © 2020

Right now it's something
to ignore

a chore
this plastic leaning Tower of Pizza

planted
at the end of my driveway

through the tinted window
the early morning gets more yellow

with the sun
as I look out upon the lawn

like it's an endless crazy ocean
past the box

like it's an embattled
buoy

and try to get comfortable with my
lopsided universe

Whit Howland © 2020

yes they're eye candy
for the mind

the big blue marble the
universe

heaven
and beyond

so much to bite off
maybe more than we can chew

lest we forget those little
details

they also matter

whit howland © 2020

Tweed and not too
formal

lighting
muted and soft

mirthy
and small conversation

and quiet
plinks
on a piano

ambience
is what it's all about

escape
and just enough to keep

the wild things
at bay

Whit Howland © 2020

Hi guys!

Could I respectfully ask you to
fix the glitches on this site?!

Hello Poetry means the world to
many of us, even if we do not and can't
contribute financially.

I love to see my friends work.

Like I remember
my mother

I know
what it used to be

the day dims
and grows silent

through the window
the TV glows

and house lights
blink like fireflies

when everything was new
and fresh


Whit Howland © 2020

You paint our love with
somber but noisy tones

rubbing charcoal
and flakes of ash on the canvas

what is it

I'm scratching my head
a warning

a cautionary tale
because all I see is gray

windswept beauty and I want
more

so give it to me

Whit Howland © 2020

When it becomes a bother
to bother with a mind

worried soft as
leather

i've become resigned to you
and all your quirks

and micro tensions
it's as if I float

on a carpet of cloud
through the stratosphere

lined with thin jet
and vapor trails

whit howland © 2020

but please believe me
when I say

not to worry

and assure you that
the Mind

the Soul

and the Body

know their craft well
and always do
their job

Whit Howland © 2020

There's something missing
from my life

a part of me that floats
through the aisles

of dusty correspondence
and dispatches

something

a  piece
maybe a pawn or a knight

that never made it back

Whit Howland © 2020

Like the brother who said

you can have it

you slip out when I
slip in from the night shift

and our fingers only
slightly touch

but it's just enough
for a connection

to keep the ghosts
at bay

and drown out all the lonely songs
about about a pale and sad moon


Whit Howland © 2020

And I no longer
fake it
life writing

that is

my eye
now both cool
and warm

I can feel
and also see the sun

and paint the sky
in an appropriate hue

a small observation
I know

but something that can't be
overlooked

a gift a treasure
for evermore

Whit Howland © 2020

You are
front and center

as pale as the moon and with
obsidian eyes

I could maybe I
should

take heed

and if death
were not so absurd

I might be scared but
as it stands

I look at you and all I see
is a cigar

and you know what they say
about cigars

whit howland © 2020

Such weak light
it sheds

over the table
I'm over you

and I had a good
run until we got

too deep in the dark
woods

of analysis metaphor and symbol
so much so we literally stopped saying

I love you

could we have
should we have

I guess we'll never know
and it no longer matters

such weak sauce

Whit Howland © 2020

a pop
and a flash

the process is
fast

and nothing pretty
or fancy

the switch is flicked
the filament

glows
to a hot white

a birth

a light

an idea

prayers should always equal
action

Whit Howland © 2020

it's the sum of all its
parts

the spark plug belts
fuel

and water pumps
filters pistons and the many valves

but most of all the
silent

and greasy hand
that made the magic happen

Whit Howland © 2020

It's more than just waxen sticks
posted like sentries

on a thickly frosted cake
it's a celebration

of things that are growing
inside me

such as my love
of confessional poetry

for paintings of lonely
landscapes

and of how I've perfected my ability
to navigate

wastelands
physical emotional

or otherwise

Whit Howland © 2020

I mean if it were metal
it would rust

but it's plastic so the snow won't
hurt it

with that in mind what does
it mean

and I'm not writing to you
to say nothing

I've cashed those chips in
long ago

we've captured something
a moment a scene
could it be just

a part
to a bigger whole

the snow is getting deeper
the box

harder to see

in a minute or two
we'll have nothing

but  a stupid
conundrum

that's better than something

isn't it

Whit Howland © 2020

through my window
floats
a bevy of blue ghosts

their cold light
intermittent  

like the message on my old
answering machine


Whit Howland © 2020

Of what I do not know
of who

I've never had the pleasure
to meet

something or someone
maybe

I've known
only in the abstract

and the more I grow to love it
or them

the farther out of reach
they

it

is for you I and me

Whit Howland © 2020

A diamond

four triangles coming together
my life

now squared  away

and my mind
as quiet as a pool hall

for surgeons of the game
with only

the rhythmic focused
cracking

of solids that scatter

like dandelion seeds
riding a gentle breeze

on a fine summer day

Whit Howland © 2020

Something comfortable
but with pizzazz

fine lines
a touch of leather

and brushed
nickel

we think aloud
in unison

we complete each other's
sentences

with relatively speaking
the same syntax

whit howland © 2020

I've grown so used it
that it no longer phases me

what

the sounds of the ice maker
the numbness of your frosty lips

the glass filled with water
sitting

so precariously on
the counter

Whit Howland © 2020

sugar tongs figure
into this thing

as does a cupboard
a sugar cube a rose leaf

and I'll try my hardest
to resist the pestle

Whit Howland © 2020

as I've told you many times
before

so much depends on the words we
forage for
and our ability to whittle down

those pieces of wood
and fashion a workable phrase

the structures we choose
to build

and that has made all the difference

Whit Howland © 2020

louvered windows refract the sun's rays

I see life through  a glass *****

This year looks much different than last

We are what our eyes judge our first impression of things to be.

My eggs are runny

And snow falls
like God
shaking
out his hair

little flakes
on the back of the shirt
a few on the comb
after it ran through the strands

still covering
the dull pate
where did they go
where did we go

how did we get here
this state
where we own
almost embrace

our foibles
our chinks
in what is now tarnished
armor

Whit Howland © 2020

So many years ago
but you

are still fresh in my
mind

your face your eyes your shape
same full color

and still in Panavision

why did you go why
won't you ever call

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

Soon the lamps will dim
the trees will be silhouettes
in the morning fog
then maybe later
the sky will open up to an expanse
of  solid blue

and maybe you'll come
home again
it's never the same
when you are gone

Whit Howland © 2020

It's not you
me

or about a place

but more to do
with what exists
beyond

the structure
and can we trust
each other

until we earn
the right and the ticket
to ride

Whit Howland © 2020

Hard

so so hard

not to want to
paint it in purple

purple cars
purple clouds
and sky

purple boulevards

and

purple
sea and people

this bardic purple
verse

wants to drip from
the mouth

like
shall we say

lavender honey


Whit Howland © 2020

To this day
I am not

sure if I was
ever really there

so much of it
was just sleep walking

voices taking
at each other
with

lots of TV snow
and

background
noise

but also some
truth

coming through
all that fuzz

Whit Howland © 2020

A bite a kick like a glass
of sweet but ****
lemonade

we're older now and we kid
ourselves when we look
in the mirror

and at others our age
we don't think we look like that
but we do

Whit Howland © 2020

It's most liberating
knowing

I don't have to understand
the poem I

just have to connect with something
about it

whether I'm enchanted by
the imagery

or entranced by the
rhythm

the most effective poems
are those

that charm something
universal from my

earthen jar of a heart
that pulls

the rest of me
upward


Whit Howland © 2020

fact

i woke up this morning to 98 degrees
and steamy

it was so hot
that as the old saying goes

you could fry an egg on the pavement
for good measure

i added spam and bacon
to that mix

but the real issue
sizzling

on the front burner
is

when exactly will this
end

corollary

or
whether or not we want it to

Whit Howland © 2020

When lonely's
comfort food
and
misery loves
the company
of other
stranded and wounded
souls
huddled
for shelter
and warmth

Whit Howland © 2020

Your tone
should always be
conversational

but professional

highlight your
strengths

and when possible
weave dross into
strands of gold


tell the story
however
control the flow

of the river
so as to keep the narrative
on point

mostly though
you'll want to make it clear
for all to see

that you're a caterpillar
fast becoming
a big and beautiful

butterfly

Whit Howland © 2020

Right now
the wind does not
howl

instead it sounds
a lot like whale music
calling

from down deep
and beckoning me
to dig deeper

don't worry
what ever is broken
I promise

I'll fix

Whit Howland © 2020

rising

it's
silvery

reflection
glints

off the calm
ocean water

the night is still young
and crazy

but it will get older
wiser

as we will
with it

Whit Howland © 2020

There's a much better poem out there
about you

it's one I probably wrote

like you
I found my niche

though not among Greek Isles
excavations
blue water and olive trees

but in the rough but
loving paintings

hung on walls
in places

seldom remembered
and mostly
forgotten

Whit Howland © 2020

Last night a co worker
told me

he had to get out

play music
create or something

and then
he'll be happy

in my dreams
my house

hangs
on a string

the foundation's
cracked and sags

fix what's now
I tell him

leave the rest for later

whit howland © 2020

Of glass that sweats
and labels that peel

in all shapes
and sizes

colors of liquid
from root to birch

onto creamy
and tangy

we can live again
love again

and we can definitely
come home

whit howland © 2020

savage heat slanting
rain

night and day
sleep dream and

wake

clouds faces
anvil heads

people I love

and hate

sorry to say
I thought out here

that would go

away

Whit Howland © 2020

I have drawn no
conclusions

or lines

and one might
conclude

that this is
skullduggery

or outright theft

but for now
I can only know you

by speaking your words
even if I have to

steal them from your mouth
or

from the page

it was sunny today
almost muggy and warm

again
I'm pilfering

your moment

your thunder

and the description
of a place

that not I and only
you

have ever been

Whit Howland © 2020

The night we called it 
a day

I remember that night

mostly the day

there've been a thousand of them
in a thousand lifetimes

cloudy gray
with raindrops
as dingy as mop water

so many times
have I been scrubbed
squeegeed and wiped out
of someone's mind

Whit Howland © 2020

chirp is the word
for the sound it makes

most say it sings
while for others  

it spills the beans
we claw and peck for meaning

a few call themselves poets
everyone fights

for freedom

it flies


Whit Howland © 2020