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

Whit Howland © 2020

Horns blare
as cars  
rub bumpers

trying
to connect
into one long train

we'll be okay
if we focus
on what's concrete

and just drive
forward
and make it home

Whit Howland © 2020

Lately when I dream
there's just a lot of blue

sometimes it shimmers
like in a pool

other times
it hangs like a velvet

curtain on a stage

I'm here at this hour
on this earth

to ponder what's
absurd

the things in the mind
that need to be cleared

like junk in the attic
but before we toss

we revisit

this is one of those
things

I roped you in so
why don't you put

your feet up

and stay


Whit Howland © 2020

Does it or does it not
do I or don't I

do you or do you
not

we can dance this dance
all night or

if you prefer

hold tightly
to the gold maned horse

on a mad carousel
in the sky

I'm good with that
how about you

Whit Howland © 2020

the sky is rinsed
colorless

the sun fades unnoticed
but

was it really there

the grass that browned
in Fall

is still littered with brittle
leaves

and we float above
it all

knowing

the world is not necessarily
us


Whit Howland © 2020

always  

it seems that much of my memories
are played on a scratchy
transistor radio

where music and songs
shine
despite their audio flaws

but the tough
and salted ones

exist within
some painful pieces
of geography

places where words
phrases
and sentences

dare not go

Whit Howland © 2020

moon imagery
never grows old

but the older
I grow

the crazy love affair
I once had
with ten-dollar words

starts to wane

images are now
only digestible
in bite-sized
green cheese flavored
morsels

I've been at this
so long

that much of what
gets done is under
weak and pale light

and by fingertip
feel

and finally

most people
want you to speak to them
directly about sadness

rather than
take them down
a moonless
wet and lonely street

Whit Howland © 2020

Tonight I'm into your
colors

that might've been
black and white

but in time
and based on much

of what you've seen
in  your life

have been mixed and stirred
into shades of gray

there's an owl
at your window

and it's my sincerest hope
that he's just an owl

Whit Howland © 2020

When bad happens
let me always say

I love this stuff

and when thunder
booms

lightning
flashes

storms rage
floods come

let me stand
smile
and take a bow

and
as I let a dandelion always
be my flower

may
smiting drops of rain
always be

my song

Whit Howland © 2020

autumn leaves blanket
a sweater and slippers

I look at you over bifocals
and puff my pipe

I have arrived

a little slower in life
but I have arrived

whit howland © 2020

Tracks in the snow

a small game trail
deer path
or footprints

ciphers
symbols
signs

of steps
equals
forward motion

progress


whit howland © 2020

In the remaining
dregs of the day

we wheel our trash
to the curb

it was hot
but the wind now
gusts up

leaves swirl
it will rain

Whit Howland © 2020

Rugged
splendor

lurching
back and forth

spacious
skies

air brakes
whistle blasts

Beacon rock
Gassman Coulee Trestle

locomotive
passenger cars

Snow spotted
peaks

lakes rivers
and clear water streams

long silver
streak

what we built
you and I

was gone
in a matter of minutes

in just one night

whit howland © 2020

That slatted promenade
the paper ducks the
shooting gallery

and the spools
upon spools
of cotton candy

was it Santa Cruz
or Atlantic City

it was so foggy then
it's foggy now

and much has happened
with you and I
along this stroll

up hills
through valleys
and everywhere in between

but if there's been one constant

it's how tightly we clasped
each other's hands
so hard and earnest

that our wedding bands
stamped our skin
like we were certified and registered mail

Whit Howland © 2020

The future came and went
without

a squeak as it creeped
through

the back kitchen
door

we're old now
but

look at us then

what the heck
were we wearing

Whit Howland © 2020

It's politeness
blocking

us from its core
and

preventing us from
pulling

the common thread
so the cloak

unravels
and

the more we tarry
or

dilly dally
the more complex

the thing grows
so for Pete sake

can we just skip

hello

Whit Howland © 2020

Is she staring out or looking
inward as she sits

in a spare room all
neat and efficient squares

and rectangles
her red dress

offsetting the flesh tones
the hospital gray of walls and floors

will she stay

or will she take the plunge
into the night

that's like murky water
but clear enough to see

the outlines of buildings
resembling the splintered planks

and masts of the ship that wrecked
so long ago.

Whit Howland © 2020

An ornate affair
with a restored

marquee
and neon sign

restored

to it's 1940's
splendor

that is

inside's
a gilded lobby

and auditorium
with wine colored

velvet seats where
we are

willing to forgo
comfort

for something
dear and constant

in our lives

Whit Howland © 2020

You mock me with a note
on a cocktail napkin

wet

from whatever you were drinking
and smudged

with ink

you love me

you love me not

and try as I try
forget you I cannot

I

kid you not

Whit Howland © 2020

When I say add  
sugar

you'll just scoop and tip
the spoon

and watch it sprinkle
into the bowl

very few if no questions
are ever asked

the good news is that we'll all
basically want to go to the same places

in life

and we are willing to write the poems
sing the songs
and dance the dances that will get us there

Whit Howland © 2020

They're more like ***** cotton
as opposed to black
but it's coming

the storm that is
not us
we're okay

we've done all we could
closed the windows
reeled in the laundry

pulled the car in the garage
we'll hunker down
in the middle of the room

it'll pass

Whit Howland © 2020

we circle the drain
and yet we fiddle

a jet trails off into
the distance

its noise lags far
behind

we sleep through
the afternoon

to the soundtrack
of our lives

Whit Howland © 2020

and sounds
I like the way it sounds

what Hobart what
sounds

I don't know
the dark

dark what do you mean
dark

I mean ink
like a velvet cloth

ink I see

Hobart

yes

what did you do today

I helped an old lady
across the street

was she grateful

I think so
though she didn't really say

in fact
she said nothing at all

Whit Howland © 2020

You try it on for size
this

temporary
or second life

and the city streets
you drive

your canvas your
secret laboratory

and what doesn't work
or is an epic fail

can easily be painted
over

or disposed of
as experimental

and scientific waste

error analysis
optional

but not recommended

Whit Howland © 2020

My cat coiled beside me
on the couch

both he and I
creatures of the night

him
by choice

we are bonded
by the glow

of an amber globe
that looks like

it floats
in the front yard

whit howland © 2020

a dare to set forth and prove
the moon is literally

a ball of green cheese and
not some silly metaphor

that Santa  Claus was also real
we just stopped having faith

and life

on a wire between tall buildings
and you have only

your balance
and your grace

whit howland © 2020

A parlor trick
for dimes or
quarters

I am coiled
then rolled out
on the end of a string

running this way
and that I work
I perform I fight

someday
this war is going to
end

Whit Howland © 2020

I can get no
traction

so I guess
it's best to let

the mind flow
and I've come

to understand
that sometimes

life
may or may
not  go

sideways

I'm ok with
that

Whit Howland © 2020

does he love her
or does he not

ralph and alice
and other shades of gray

what would their lives have been like

if when he blew into that trumpet
he'd hit that high note

Whit Howland © 2020

and you know every time
I call

I see the old rotary dial on our phone
by the refrigerator
spinning

I'd leave it at that

but I like how the memory
stretches

like the long snaking cord
from the kitchen to the living room
and back again

whit howland © 2020

If you can see
the light at the end of the tunnel
and it's not an oncoming train

please fill me in
on what this all meant
because

lately,

I've been
stumbling and fumbling
for a poem

and can't seem to
find one

Whit Howland © 2020

it

marches

marches on

at first

uneasy
wobbly
shaky

then

it marches on

Whit Howland © 2020

would not there be
a dry eye in the house
there wouldn't

this morning
cloud cover
dull and gray

it almost threatened rain
but
with some polish

and a little elbow grease
we shined it up
like silver

Whit Howland © 2020

Like my feet
without any wings

they clunk
and plod through mud

much like molasses

and the music
the thought jazz

has left under auspicious
no

I think you mean
suspicious circumstances

Whit Howland © 2020

You ask
what is the tipping point
when does it all go away

I answer

close your eyes
and listen to the clock tick

it's only then you will see
it melting
and dripping in the sun


Whit Howland © 2020

it's 50 degrees
the sky is steel gray

in the middle of May
and I love you

but I will never be in love
with you

if you don't understand that
then you are the one

who has the problem with
literalism

Whit Howland © 2020

They had their day
in the sun

and now

they're
having one more

among the hard
brown

hills and
dusty

desert floor

they sit
battered

bruised
with rust

each blinded
in one eye

one more heave

one more gasp

one more time

holding off

that last
breath and twitch

Kind of like if a tree
falls

in the woods
and no one's around

does it really make
a sound

likewise
if something is yours

and only yours
is it really

all that
profound

Whit Howland © 2020

Rumbles
like a tank

with the odor
of a rancid tennis shoe

its horn blares

"Move your trash, please!"

but what if I am trash
do I get picked up

or just ignored

We cry about it in Paris
every spring

we used to say
before we lamented

what has left our lives
forever

even though I can't see you
I know you're there

I cling to that
always

Whit Howland © 2020

Some will  say it didn't go
anywhere

and I'll say they're
right

two electric trains
one going east
and another going west

which way you ask
will the smoke go

it won't go anywhere
I say
but up your nose

just like it always has

Whit Howland © 2020

My wife calls me
her big block of cheese

no wonder why
my mouth waters

at the sight
of a full moon

thank you very much
I'll be here all night

and maybe into
the next day

Whit Howland © 2020

We often think
quiet

thoughts
of the tiniest things

contrary
to the loud voices

in our head

YELLING

NO THAT IS NOT
WHAT THE SIGN SAYS

it reads

GO BIG

AND INSPIRE AWE

BE A KING

OR A QUEEN

Whit Howland © 2020

Glossy sunset
palm trees bending
a couple

almost a silhouette


they don't walk they float
above the sand with arms
not locked

fused
like Legos like
cogs

in a machine
grinding against
the tide

in the distance
at the edge
Diamond Head Rises

close but still
too far

Staccato
chirpy
if we focus on the
song

and the music
the song
we must
even

though
it's loud
and splits the
ear it's

something
we cannot
afford to
ignore

Whit Howland © 2020

Past the point of no return
the boat

on a track
guided by a greasy chain

goes under
the flashing sign

and the faces
of comedy
tragedy

and the masks
of love and hate

what's beyond
for now

lies in a long
dark tunnel

and for now
silent as a snowflake

a tomb

you pick

this murky journey's yours
it's what you wished for

it's what you love

Whit Howland © 2020

An art exhibit
for the mind

with
works inspired

by mostly those
with places to go

things to do
and people to see

but we're not losers
or misfits

we're here to put
voice

to their actions
and speak truth

to their power

Whit Howland © 2020

It's about being
ruthless

with the weeds
not much grass

anymore

these days I find
myself

on defense always blocking
life's punches

and attempting to level out  
the ubiquitous uneven cut

ready with eyes
darting

this way and that
watching

for the next battle
sight unseen

or dandelion

Whit Howland © 2020

a dozen deep

red roses with
crinkled
and blackened edges

wading in powdered
water

in a cheap crystal
vase

there's a story behind
the object the image

but it's not the same one
you've heard before

it's about things left
undone

and leaving it at that

because for reasons
known only to God

it's better left that way


Whit Howland © 2020

A light
more a glow

the source
we do not know

should we
do we

dare
ask where

or why

my days are spent
trying

to read your ticks
your expressions

and I must do so
without fail

without question

it's the wire I walk
between two points

straddling



Whit Howland © 2020