Orb weaver
Of the gorgeous webs
By the courtyard gate
We don't go through
That way anymore
Respectfully
It is all yours now


NCL September 2019

he is a turtle
she is a rose

he moves slow
she daily glows

he is rough and coarse
she smells perfect

he closes his eyes
she flies in petals

he proposed her
she refuses

he goes down underwater
she amuses

he came as a wet pet
she firms her guards

he tells a story
she discards

he stops trying
she loves the scar

he stays in front of her
and she remarks

what do you need?
what do you want?

his voice is crisp
he utters at last

I just need affection
I just need admiration
I just need approval
because I am a narc.

Thine eyes I see
Warm pools of tea
From whom they be
Staring back at me

My gaze to thee
I give for free
In which to see
Your love reflected back to me

Tied
like meat
with a butcher's knot

a bundle of papers
sits on the side walk

the rain

pelting
the front page

smudging
running
the news

now
a steady stream of ink

feeding into the storm drain

© Whit Howland 2019

The leaky pipes that keeps me up at night
The constant snore
The distant cough
And the leaky pipe that keeps me up at night
The wind whispers
The vicious growl
And the leaky pipes that keeps me up at night.

-tossing and turning j.j.





The Moon, she laughs
Because
Even she knows
The **** pipes will never be fixed.

-untitled j.j