In the morning I wake
to the beginnings
of a mid to late
March day

and that morning
muted like a trumpet
is sepia with snares and cymbals
coloring

the seconds
the minutes
the hours
with an improvisational crayon


whit howland © 2021

To God
only known
we are

unknown
to everyone else

you are seeing
what  no one else
can view

thus

you now know
what he can only
know

sublime

whit howland © 2021

silver tin can
on thick

rubber wheels
frayed velvet seats

raw deal
memories

regrets
are plenty

nowhere
to go no sense

of place
or belonging

whit howland © 2021

A moon not pale
but robust

or

dare I say
voluptuous

it's still snowy
in Wintertime

through this mountain
pass

so long ago

and I'm still crying
over spilled milk

whit howland © 2021

Slithering
gummy worms

a cricket
with a bad case
of the sniffles

and not a swatch
of tissue in sight

a marvelous tin windup
robot that squawks
DANGER

so loud it'll power wash the freckles
off your face

bubbly brown-colored soda
in a sweating glass
no

not a frosty mug
that says Pepsi

COKE

because
things always go better
with Coke


whit howland © 2021

Where are we going
nowhere it seems

brown foam pouring
over the glass

a scoop of vanilla
slowly turning

to ice

as cream
mixes with soda

a rhyme without a reason
or perhaps no rhyme at all

shape form
or resolution

a treat

maybe egress
an exit

an escape?

whit howland © 2021

Bonded paper
ballpoint pen

so much to write to you
about

although

the wherefores
and the whys

still inconclusive

sorry to leave you hanging
like this

maybe someday
we'll both understand

whit howland © 2021

blue VW bug with
a tiny dent in the front fender
starting to rust

the scrapbook
on your front seat
and some canceled checks

fanned out
like a poker hand
I followed you

chased you
maybe stalked you
over hill over dale

not because
I was crazy
in a bad way

it was because
in those days
love didn't come so easily for me

until I learned
the rules of the game
those being very simple

love
is no game at all
it is serious business

whit howland © 2021

I climb in and out of you
like a jungle gym
slide down your slide
spin on your merry go round

what makes you tick

passion and intensity
is something I get

but the other part
is just so foreign to me

whit howland © 2021

something to swivel
in my mouth

to use to pick out
food for thought

lodged
between my teeth

before I whittle
it/you down to size

then sweep away
the splinters

with my tongue

whit howland © 2021