In his              
plaid sport coat

pulling tissues
from his paper sack head

flinging them

slinging
bathroom jokes

cackling
jigging

a comedic
unknown soldier

known only
to God

This is just
a friendly reminder
to take out the trash before you leave

love you

a plate of eggs
bacon
sausage

and ham

so fast
it moved it was a blur
and so loud it howled

throughout the night

whit howland © 2021

Your last and for the sake
of love
and charity

I'll say it was a good one
and I'll venture even farther
contesting

it was likely your best
with air probably the richest
a man could ever breath

and the lofty wind
that whistled through your nose
gave you the resolve

to launch
above and beyond
to things only you

now can understand

Whit Howland © 2020

I went searching
for myself

but found you among
the clouds

where the air is thin
clear and my mind is light

much like my heart

I'll tell your story
so I can someday write mine

Whit Howland © 2020

Wet rainy frogs
hopping
on the pavement

did we do this to ourselves
do what

the heart hardened the paint
splattered the sweeping
brush strokes

in various shades
of gray

whit howland © 2020

red
but faded

slats  cover the path or
walkway

below
the river frozen and blanketed
with powdery snow

and icy branches crack
on the spotty wooded shores

it seems so long ago
when we were last here

the water gurgled the trees
were green and the paint
was bright and fresh

I'm so sorry I didn't
know
but I should have

whit howland © 2020

Leather
wrinkled with age

but trusty

case in point
without the fluff

we are talking about a grip
that's been through it all

seen it all
and stood the test of time

This morning
we woke

to a powdering
of snow

on the streets
the cars

and most beautifully

our lamppost
still lit

radiating

frosty
but warm light

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

Stuck at six
and ten

the second's hand
convulses

every man
has the patience

to wait two thousand lives
for  that vindication

and just one minute
of fame

Whit Howland © 2020

Open
with a red-orange sunrise

then
crack that sunrise like an egg

and let the yoke and white slop
into a mixing bowl

question
do we then beat that egg

scramble it
or do we fry it or

maybe poach
perhaps

we just leave that broken sunrise
in the bowl on the counter

someone else's gift
or curse

rising
and falling

but shallow ragged
agonal

breathing

gag
reflex choking

the world
heavy on my and your shoulders

imposing looming
you and I

collapsing
under our own weight

whit howland © 2021

rising
and falling

but shallow ragged
agonal

breathing

gag
reflex choking

the world
heavy on my and your shoulders

imposing looming
life

yours
and mine

you
and I

collapsing
under our own weight

whit howland © 2021

We celebrate
our separation

from the mother ship
our first

independent breath
we are the seed

in pickled in animation
soon to have

dangling roots

whit howland © 2021

It's hard to say goodbye
to a place

when I've never said hello
as the cliche goes

and this isn't really a poem
as much as it is a meditation

about what could have been
and why it really was

or was it ever really
and why should it have happened

that way
we could go on and on

doing loop dee loops
somersaults

cartwheels bonsai dives
belly flops

but all this is procrastination
with a dash of Egyptian denial

and it's time to connect
the dots

it's real easy if you merely
sit and think about it

wake up
smell the jo

see the gate and close it
behind you

move
toward go to

the blinding beam of
light

and more over

there's the bridge

Whit Howland © 2020

With a drab
gray
wooden handle

it leans
next to a scuffed
blue dust pan

not to sweep things
under a rug

both have another
albeit
plain function

sweep up dust

both saw and plaster

Whit Howland © 2020

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

Your flavor
a candy-flake daydream

so sweet

but no
you did not complete  me

and it wasn't for trying
I chewed on all of your words

your every word
that inevitably

I know that now

lost their taste
in a matter of minutes

loving spoonfuls
of sugar

a blessed shot
of cream soda

it swirls
in a glass and in
our mouths

we are nowhere
or everywhere

yet
do we even care

whit howland © 2020

Go to the Farmers Market
buy pears and cucumbers

wash the dishes
fold the laundry

water the plants
iron your pants

have
a rootbeer float


and more

items
on the list

taped

to a plastic bucket
from the Silver Legacy Casino

the jackpot never came
but the odd quarter

here and there
along with pennies

pinched

and stepped over
to get to dollars

in the end
added up to something big

folks

life was good
and don't let anyone kid you

the small stuff
did matter

To be hell ridden
of the itch of worry

are words I wish
I wrote

but alas
they are what I've found

more vestiges
of you

for much of what
I own

poetically is
yours

and the best
I can do

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

flying
then yawing

floating
spinning

thoroughly
pickled

i woke up this morning
not knowing

where you were
or even why

you
ever existed


whit howland © 2020

the crack that started
as a chip
is fast running
up the side

and there's a rattle
in the hub cap
like a ball bearing
going round and round

good problems
so they say

whit howland © 2021

Warbling pigeons
in the park crazy

from the heat

a dizzying spin
on a paint-chipped

merry-go round

a greased slide down
hot metal

into a gravel pit

a burning sunset
but don't rub your eyes

For those who know
the plate glass window

looking out over Omaha
at night

the city lights twinkling
derisively

so to speak

whit howland © 2020

We stare at the explosion
the mess of paint
glopped onto the canvas
thinking of what could've been

a driver's cap
a bundle of newspapers
a can of soda
hot and chewy pretzels

meat
cut into red juicy strips
wrapped in thick wax paper
tied with twine

Whit Howland © 2020

what once was brown
with hairs and crawled on the ground

became

not before our very eyes
but

when we were not looking
a kaleidoscopic

butterfly

things don't change
they just evolve into

what they already
were becoming

whit howland © 2021

The bristles
on my toothbrush

are ragged
and that's a fact

as well as my chipped tooth
that sometimes slices

my tongue

whit howland © 2021

a swath of blue a few
ripples

here
and there

that lap what might be
sand

a slash of yellow
sun

you are here

but right now


I am there
my mind molding

fashioning
the perfect day

at the beach

and possibly
the perfect life

for us

whit howland © 2021

It starts with a dark and stormy
night

then you are everywhere
but nowhere

bus depot
airport train station

I suspect you are alone
I could be wrong but I know I'm not

if you can hear me
riddle me this

what do you call
an exploding monkey

a baboom

you are everywhere out there
somewhere

and I will keep sending up
flares

whit howland © 2021

red
with dabs of rust

on the bottom
and at the edges

a railing in the back
that he can grab onto

wheels
and a hitch

to couple with
other cars

everything exactly
to scale

we always recreate
what we see

only smaller

whit howland © 2020

The dream the intent
gone long ago
like all good things

whether it should have passed an unfortunate
unnecessary debate

but also
up for discussion
grabs

the importance
of form structure of a dream

and the worth of a historical
timeline of an automobile
from fin to future vision

Whit Howland © 2019

A scribble
doodle

of a lollipop tree
or thingamabob

on a paper napkin
that might've been

used for

a ketchup stain
lipstick print

or a drop of running
mascara

why am I
here

it's definitely
not for the eggs

and steak
they call Moo and Peep

and it's not to feed
the soul

but it's definitely for the vats
and vats of sizzling oil

greasing the gears
spinning my wheels

the world's waiting
to give you

the brass ring
will you be ready to grab it

What comes to mind
is death
and the afterlife

and unraveling
the mystery
of what it's like

red white
white red
red white

vegetable
beef
vegetable

sometimes
just a dab of silver
to let you know they are cans

whit howland © 2021

It's an image
I can mass-produce
on cue

ladling syrupy
sentiments into a cup
like punch

depression glass
frosted
with flourishes

filled with candy
wrapped in flashy
gold cellophane

all because
I'm trying to
sell you what you want

whit howland © 2020

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

Safe to say
used

but better said
spent

on the wood of a deck
now peeling

it was cheap
and he claimed

that moniker
as well

Whit Howland © 2020

or is it a slate
to scrawl on
with chalk

to draw to
solve to flesh out
life's riddles

to put together
the ultimate puzzle
one etch/ piece at a time

to diagram
the building the
sentence the story

to complete the circle

the beauty being
even though
it is slate

nothing is ever
written in stone
for it can be erased

and the canvas
is always
blank

whit howland © 2020

The smell was sweet
when you dropped

the hammer on that roll
of red ribbon

making the gunpowder
puff

and it almost smelled like success
when you watched

your imaginary foe
grab his chest

and fold over
that hitching post

Whit Howland © 2020

Sometimes I write
and the words

jump off the page
and dance

it's these short
bursts of imagination

that keeps the ink
pumping

and flowing
from the heart

Whit Howland © 2020

I've got
many ways
to say no to you

but instead
watch

as I slam
the door off
it's hinges

feel the vibration
that's no

moving on

let's find an image
a metaphor that says
I love you

something
cliche

a rose plucked
crushed
into oil

bottle broken
potion spilled
all over your finest
blouse

I love you


© Whit Howland 2019

Time it seems has stood still
for us to admire

the purple budding flowers
in spring

the red
and yellow leaves of Fall

or the moss-covered headstones
in the graveyard

behind a quaint clapboard
chapel

we are not at a crossroads
there are no pivotal decisions to be made

we are free
to keep spinning the wire rack

flaring the nostrils
smelling sponging

and sometimes chewing
the scenery

getting lost in the wash of Americana
and nostalgia

Whit Howland © 2020

gentle water
lapping the hull

bossa nova
clinking glasses
a tickle
of the piano's ivory keys
and you're lost

in giant strawberries
of a daiquiri
dribbling down your chin
onto your palm frond top
and shorts while you

swing and sway
poolside

tomorrow Ocho Rios Jamaica
but today sun and sea

tonight the crown stars
and a ruby juicy
fingernail moon

Whit Howland © 2019

a cold sweat
trickles down
the waxed sides of the carton

when it's pulled
from the refrigerator
and with one inconclusive whiff

I wonder
why I'm here
and whether or not

I am still suitable
for mass consumption
or way past

my expiration date

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

All the things
I see
in fiction  
the mental jetsam
of dreams

I can no longer say
this isn't happening to me
that this

is the stuff
of others

this is real

and I am here for
a little while longer
maybe just another hour

© Whit Howland 2019

they're incongruent
concepts

comfort

curiosity

responsibility

but in
instances like these
I can reconcile

with any inconsistencies
and see life

as ten frames of bowling

with strikes aplenty

Whit Howland © 2020

it was the one
that roped me in

the picture
you sent me long ago

the one with
your bright smile
and eyes wide
with anticipation

you are standing
among other revelers
on Spring Garden Road

there's a beer stein
in your hand

you must have
been celebrating
something big  that night

what was it
what was making
you so happy

that one thing
I could never crack

your happiness

anyway
I've kept this one around
even though I shouldn't
and

today I'm older
and right now

I'm standing in a
harbor side gift shop
in Catania Sicily

a new wife
and happy life

she just bought some
post cards of the city

pictures of side streets
and ally ways
scrubbed so clean
and shiny
they almost smile

I'll keep one
replacing yours

because it just hit me
like a blinding beacon

what you were doing
that night and why

you looked so happy

it was the one
that roped me in

the picture
you sent me long ago

the one with
your bright smile
and eyes wide
with anticipation

you are standing
among other revelers
on Spring Garden Road

there's a beer stein
in your hand

you must have
been celebrating
something big  that night

what was it
what was making
you so happy

that one thing
I could never crack

your happiness

anyway
I've kept this one around
even though I shouldn't
and

today I'm older
and right now

I'm standing in a
harbor side gift shop
in Catania Sicily

a new wife
and happy life

she just bought some
post cards of the city

pictures of side streets
and ally ways
scrubbed so clean
and shiny
they almost smile

I'll keep one
replacing yours

because it just hit me
like a blinding beacon

what you were doing
that night and why

you looked so happy