Manx
they have no tails

and not much of one to tell
either

just *****
of nonsensical verse

and joy

the mind is best
when the mind is at play

agree?

Where even the doorman
has a joke

and no one
is straining gnats

or swallowing camels

because they're too busy
swatting them or smoking them

while trying to scratch
an itch

that is next to near
impossible

to reach

pleasure
is my measure

stepping foot by foot
loose change falling

from my pockets
like manna

that dropped from the sky
so so long ago

whit howland © 2021

Black white
gray then black
again

then beige
and we are caught
in a vortex

a loop
of one color
and of one mind

so maybe throw
in some yellow
some blue

and let it mix
into green then
dark green

then lime
and back to green
again

from chaos
always comes
order

the world sees to it
and keeps it
that way

whit howland © 2020

You always take it too far
you say

I guess that's me
and why

every time I pull into
the garage

I stare down a bright green
tennis ball on a string

like both barrels
of a shotgun

whit howland © 2020

With Spartan
sentences
and syntax

life stripped
down to only
what we need

it doesn't get
more luxuriant
than that


Whit Howland © 2020

Today
worry hangs on me
like a mill stone

yesterday
I was flooded
with guilt

which felt more
like an albatross

maybe tomorrow
I'll wear a barrel of Brandy
around my neck

trust me
I'd be okay
with rope burns

Whit Howland © 2020

we tune in we
dial

we dig on the radio
to catch

a sentimental
wistful wave

to 1964

or what ever your  
candy

or guilty pleasure
may be

Whit Howland © 2020

Fire engine
ripped
Naugahyde
cigarette burns
crusted
yellow
yoke
where am I
I woke up
and you were gone
still drowsy from sleep

Whit Howland © 2020