#edwardhopper
As the tide goes out
uncovering
the sand bar path
to the light house
and children laugh
hurling
beach *****
and seaweed
as sandcastle after sand castle
gets trampled
it's one deafening
question
that I'll always
refuse to answer
would we have lost each other
in the hustle and shuffle
of family
Aug 3, 2024
Aug 3, 2024 at 11:29 AM UTC
Three gas pumps long
it's clean
perhaps
well lighted
but with summer bugs
swarming the lamps
like a plague
and it's in between
here
and there
whatever
and wherever
there
maybe
Aug 2, 2024
Aug 2, 2024 at 1:49 PM UTC
In the spotted mirror
popping quarters
to make the bed
rumble
as the shower sputters
steam rises
and freshly chopped ice
fills a vinyl bucket
you are everywhere
that was so long ago
Aug 2, 2024
Aug 2, 2024 at 12:02 AM UTC
sliver
of light
often
line
between
soft eyes
hard stares
jokers faces
sad mugs
steady hands
restless feet
sweet dreams
choppy sleep
sliver
of light
sometimes
just enough
to mop
***** floors
wipe
grimy counters
and
sweep out
dusty corners
whit howland © 2019
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 6:33 PM UTC
Dear Brother
I hope you are well
but since we've fallen out
I have no way of knowing
as well as
whether you mind these letters
however
these letters
are the power cord I'm trying
to unravel and some day
with a lot of fumbling
I'll find a socket I can connect it to
because brother
you see and I really hope you do
I'm trying to give a lonely lamp
some companionship
and further light the room
signed
with the warmest light
I can find
your brother
Whit Howland © 2019
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 2:27 AM UTC
Wait and walk hollow in hollows
Above the earth
Army green, army green,
The silent army of silent trees
Aside desolate roads
Hear the empty voice that goes:
“I’m the one that follows you home”
Sit and talk hollow in hollows
Inside the world
Lily white, lily white,
Funeral flowers **** the pets at night
In unopened windows
Hear the empty voice that goes
“I’m the feeling that keeps the doors closed”
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
The Village was nearly swallowed by darkness,
Until I stumbled upon a fresh fluorescent light,
Emitting an eerie glow out of a subtle all-night diner.
Suddenly, eyeballs projected a noir-style movie.
This unique heaven lit a cemented pathway,
Which led toward nowhere but American desolation.
Exploration of blank stores was not an option;
A disconnected joint across the open street was obvious.
The cornered beacon called to me as if dreams lived,
Though the seamless wedge of glass deflected observation,
Onto the viewer I represented, isolated from the anonymous.
Lungs were not interested in Phillies, only graveyard shift.
The scene held four strangers shut in spacious congregation.
The figures filled in the white void with physical presence,
While each owl was remotely lost in their own thoughts.
Was it the tragedy that occurred at Pearl Harbor,
Possibly the hopelessness World War II offered?
Could it have been the disappearance of happy innocence in ’42?
Hopper alone can probably discover a whole to the loss of words.
Somehow the constructed simplicity was overwhelming:
When late night minds meet morosity yet still produces beauty.
Subjected into one, the loneliness of a large city can exist too.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC