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Whit Howland Dec 2022
Cracked and gray
with green blight on the spokes

it leans against a tree
the one where I carved you and me
into the bark

it's purpose

plain and simple

to remind us that once
we were something

for such a short
brief while
A word painting with a straightforward message.
Whit Howland Dec 2022
Just a speck
amongst the big blue

with swirls

and I have concerns
about messaging

and what a guy
has to do to make his mark

Magic Scripto
or India Ink


what would you
suggest
Absurdist word painting.
Whit Howland Dec 2022
Not a ginger snap
but with a bite just as sharp

how you doing

better than I should be

for some reason
I am feeling very chill

good music in my earbuds
will do that to me

everytime
An absurdist word painting.
Whit Howland Dec 2022
I remember that windy
February night

we sat cross-legged
on the hardwood floor

in the room of that hotel
on Michigan Avenue

popping corks
squirting cheese ****

talking in riddles
and circles
Absurdist word painting.
Whit Howland Dec 2022
Rest respite
or a place

to call your own
home

is where your head is
when it rains

stolen no found
art and truly

one to write about
a letter from the heart
An abstract word painting..
Whit Howland Dec 2022
Left a year's
worth of rubber
five miles back

somewhere
in Oklahoma
and the sky is now orange

glowing like a long
freshly lit
cigarette

angel
or devil on my shoulder
God only knows
Whit Howland Nov 2022
Soap flake snow
and a plastic
candy cane path

to the gingerbread house
and velvet throne
where he sat

cheeks rosy
and oh so so jolly
with a little help

from a magic flask
and it goes without saying
those were the days

risky yes
but that was most of the fun
feeling so free

riding our Christmas bikes
without helmets
pretending we were pilots

flying without charts
barnstorming
hook or by crook

or

our chinny chin chin
and by the worn-out seat
of our corduroy pants
A word holiday painting.
Whit Howland Nov 2022
Where have you been
all my life

I'd ask you the same
but the words fail me

as they always do

each year in the cold
under the red and green lights

our breath freezing
before our very eyes

we discover each other
all over again
Whit Howland Nov 2022
It's fun
when you turn the corner

and feel the on-rushing heat
blast your face

like a big blow-dryer
and your beads of sweat


turn to goldfish
as they flop on the pavement
Absurdist word painting.
Whit Howland Nov 2022
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
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