Flashy
gold
and the taste of glue

Star of Wonder
Star of David
Morning Star

my life shoots across the night sky
before my very eyes
in a fit

of blurry futurism
but that star
stuck to my forehead

may it always remain
a constant and a symbol
of the best I ever was

whit howland © 2021

Gray
with a film of fog

I knew you once
but now

you are just a pair
of ruby red lips

on a cocktail napkin
in a trunk in my

attic

whit howland © 2021

The temperature is rising
you give me fever

while bringing on thunder
flashes of lightning and rain

I credit that **** Dog Star
again

as well as a mad string
of bad luck

whit howland © 2021

The cool aquamarine water
ripples

as it kisses the skin
and we move like fish

fumbling

in self-induced darkness
to the cadence

Marco
Polo

accidents
collisions

as well as serendipitous
discovery

whit howland © 2021

The soft motor of the mop
purs

as it squirts more detergent
on the vinyl floor

after an up-down motion
across the surface

it's all over but the drying
and onto

vacuuming bathrooms
laundry and other tasks

that seem eternal much like
fungus

drudgery mundane chores
the stuff we do


to stay ahead of the storm clouds
torrential rains and smiting winds

I am really cleaning

whit howland © 2021

gray streaks
mixed with rusty brown

on a stretched canvas
tacked on a plaster wall

cash
on the barrel

and it's yours

at odds
the agreement

you got me for cheap
the dotted line

where I signed
I must have been sleeping

whit howland © 2021

black
as an asphalt nightmare

splashes of gray
vomits of rust

and fast cars
up and down the street

with fits of passion
make it all a blur

the world turns on it's
not your axis

and life swings to and fro
at its own tempo

protestations
notwithstanding

whit howland © 2021

Rhythmic
consistent

water babbling
over rocks

steady

clear blue
aqua or turqouise

white sand
below

uncluttered

clarity
transparency

coherent
and pure

whit howland © 2021

the plastic lens
already scratched
popped from the frame

though in their day
this copper-colored pair of specs
was a marvelous eyepiece

but time
erodes even the finest
of instruments

and events
abrupt or otherwise
change things

and speed up
what was already
taking place

and whether we like it or not
what we love
and who we love

will always succumb
to the slow or sometimes
rapid current of progress

whit howland © 2021

Morning
began with a birdsong

nothing fancy
some rhythmic chirping

but it sufficed
and gave me the impetus to float

not slog
through the day

we are what we choose
to eat and digest

whether it be aural
or through mastication

whit howland © 2021

Fine art you are encased
in glass

on a rack
with other bottles

of dark red plasma-like
liquid

or maybe in a store
in a box

cheap

like a painting on a stand
at a sidewalk art fair

in either case
celebrate

we must

life
at any price

whit howland © 2021

As if rubbed with
charcoal

tire black rope white
and slung over a branch

ashen pale
against the gray trunk

a summer
my summer
your summer

colored
in gothic tones

much like a rubbing
from a  gravestone

in an old church
cemetery

whit howland © 2021

a swath of blue a few
ripples

here
and there

that lap what might be
sand

a slash of yellow
sun

you are here

but right now


I am there
my mind molding

fashioning
the perfect day

at the beach

and possibly
the perfect life

for us

whit howland © 2021

broken
reassembled

cubes squares
triangles

light refracted

I've studied it
from many angles

and my mind
always winds back

to the same truth

Blue

why is it blue
is it because I miss you

and that the house is empty
when it's just me

or is it the bad weather
emotional or otherwise

or the losing battle I fight
with the lawn and the cleaning

it seems so much of life
is being

swallowed up
in a quotidian funnel cloud

whit howland © 2021

Maybe it's me
and my slothful ways

but something
and I mean something

has riled them
as they vault

somersault
and skitter in and out

of my bedroom
my cats

I feel their frustration
at my failure to launch

into this hot hazy Saturday
all my Friday weekend plans

rapidly evaporating
as if

on the freshly tarred sidewalk
outside my window

whit howland © 2021

no sticker or emoji
is that intense
and could not express

the feeling

the "it"

that I feel
and it's nothing
I can explain

a wave swelling
inside is the closest
I will ever come

to showing
the abundance the flood
of love

the horn of plenty
the blessing I receive
from you every day

whit howland © 2021

Might it be blown
inside out

a stiff wind  
off a great lake

the cause of its new
shape

location identification
maybe clear

a place icy cold
urban

and the umbrella
still red

it's bright color
much needed to offset

the gray

whit howland © 2021

On the shelves they sit
this way and that

an untidy mass

some discernable
others abstract

conversations
with myself

or those
who are no longer here

cup a stein
a mug

a ballerina
folded hands

things to see things
to feed

our desire
to know more see more

metal army men
a die-cast VW Van

a dime a dozen a blessing
in disguise

a spacesuit
doll clothes

"Beware of looking for goals;
look for a way of life."

a cupie doll a shrunken
head

as someone once said

we are the things we gather
or in some cases

scatter

whit howland © 2021

Rattling
shaking
rumbling

convulsions
and unbalanced load

unbalanced



whit howland © 2021

Touching
a smudge of sky a splash
of sun

two metal halves
that'll connect as one
go

up and down
up and down

boats
barges
reflections and shadows

all pass through
for me but not
for you

whit howland © 2021

It's in their eyes
an expression

or mood

as if someone pulled on the switch
in the room or the mind

pastel baby blue

feelings over facts
abstract over concrete

whit howland © 2021

Copper
or maybe tin

on a ring like keys
to a kingdom

where life was once lived
in measured tones

and precise
rhythms

a sacrifice

whit howland © 2021

First gray clouds
then a rumble

a crash
and a flash

then torrent
after torrent of waterworks

followed by birds
chirping

sunshine
heat and steam rising

what's left to do but remove
the speck

from our own eye
so we can see clearly

to remove it from
others

whit howland © 2021

A clear blue sky
marbled with a wisp
of clouds

and the bubbles
how could we not remember
the bubbles

my tuxedo your dress
the chapel peopled with those we love
and other guests

the pictures the fountain of punch
the cake smeared
across our faces

a wise man once said
the most important thing
to remember

is not to forget

whit howland © 2021

it could be anything
shoe

or chest of drawers
just shovel in the dirt

light loamy
so there's drainage

water generously
with a hose can or pitcher

you pick

"Buy the ticket, take the ride"

"You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them."

the plunge the leap
roots of caution

flash flood

washed down the street
the journey sans the pendant

learning and the trip
is a medal or medallion

unto itself

whit howland © 2021

Unexpected
not something expected

and I would add to that
unplanned

my title
and good name

are all that I have
you have

let the images
play out in your mind

whit howland © 2021

Rows of bright
red roses

violets tulips
or tomatoes turnips

and carrots
too

in brown loamy
soil

is there structure
or is it a pallet

of assorted
smudges

grays
or flash and colors

Giverny
or a Victory Garden

we are
what we cultivate

and what and who
we feed

whit howland © 2021

Bright orange
rubbery pliant
and dare I say

*******

danger Will Robinson

boundaries
hazardous conditions

the true rite of passage
is knowing where to draw the line

whit howland © 2021

white
thick over skim

not quite full
so no surface tension

in a cold sweat
I am connected

to you
I flow freely

for you with
you

whit howland © 2021

but feels like a crazy eight
with one day off

that was all that was
in the cards

and last weeks
drama

is this week's life
affirmation

it's the things we do
to clutch at straws

when we really want to use them
to slurp soda

whit howland © 2021

Baby blue
navy

bisect
or intersect?

there's
a difference

and I have to
get it right

this time
time

fleeting
or flying?

the window's
open

and in my hand
is an alarm clock

with two ringing
bells

like vibrating
mouse ears

I'm thinking I will
just sail it through

and that should
solve everything

whit howland © 2021

Sun
Summer

it is here

passive voice
and lazy days
in a hammock

as it is swinging


whit howland © 2021

True friendship takes us
by the hand
and shows us
we are not alone

on the front lawn
in tandem
they do a loose-jointed
shuffle

I never wanted anything
more in life
except to be your
everything

perched on a roof
with eyes a google
they honk
like feathered *******

remember the joy
forget all the pain
and the tears and sadness
will wash themselves away

a steady stream
from a thick rubber hose
is all it takes to blast
those geese droppings
from the dock


whit howland © 2021

We could blur the lines
of meaning

hot water beating the skin
hard or soft

steam rising clouds
on the glass

perspiration
or passion

morning ritual/routine
or Summer rain

but let's keep it simple
and start this day

with some cleaning
lay a foundation

and wash off the soot
from last night's mental

and spiritual
chimney sweeping

whit howland © 2021

deep in the mountains
a small town

the smell
of evergreen

Mainstreet
a square

a geodesic dome
undulating

on a crisp
sunny day but

was I really there
or was I lost in thought

a conversation
endless and breathless

whit howland © 2021

Keds and Converse
scrape the court
bathed in harsh light

the ball

bouncing
echoing

off the concrete

then arcing
toward the hoop
every shot now

counts

whit howland © 2021

Wry
or moreover

a sardonic smile
or eye

and it's not his

but your's
that's the joke

he merely
flicked the switch

and the glare
of the light made you run

and hide

like a roach
heading for a dusty corner

someplace
where it's dark

whit howland © 2021

We celebrate
our separation

from the mother ship
our first

independent breath
we are the seed

in pickled in animation
soon to have

dangling roots

whit howland © 2021

i sweep
the floor

i drag your valises
up to your room

I park your
cars

i avail
or profit from your loss

i am your worst nightmare
as i stamp out all existence of you

whit howland © 2021

Who can
how

can I
someone

put packets
of jelly in them

what can I do
to fill the holes

in the soles

did you try stuffing them
with the Sunday Funnies

whit howland © 2021

with an ivory handle
and so sharp

you cut like a knife
through butter

your tongue

shaving off minutes
from my life

almost
two at a time

whit howland © 2021

Will I remember this
day

ten years from
now

this lazy afternoon
where I slept late

because I was up
the night before

so much of my life
was spent

pushing the sun up
then shutting my eyes

to rise just in time
to see it bleed out

over the horizon

whit howland © 2021

as if every day
is a blood orange sunrise

sometimes we muddy the waters
just to see the silt finally settle

whit howland © 2021

Now
a faded pair
of blue jeans

that served us well
as shadows set in
and pretty soon

there'll be nothing to see
and not much to tell
other than what we can glean

by the cold light
of a glinting sharp
silvery moon

whit howland © 2021

balding head
crows feet
wisdom lines

this life my life
is light years away
as I sit on the edge of the boat

with feet on the dock
staring at it like Mars
Jupiter or maybe the moon

my mom my grandmother
and grandfather
still in tow

whit howland © 2021

Sometimes
it's just a gray

windswept day
and we do our best

to find the beauty
in the churning

roiling clouds
above

and the soggy

uneven earth
squishing

under our feet

whit howland © 2021

Every day I strive
to radiate

the power
of a thousand suns

I fight the good fight
no matter how much

my mind says
it's a losing battle

and tries to saddle me
with the yoke of self-doubt

whit howland © 2021

Quick
like quick

silver
winged feet

messenger
too fast to ****

whit howland © 2021

hung up
actually
specifically
snagged

on language
more pointedly
tangled in the use
of words

sharply

hooked
on the gears and wheels
of the mind
and how it works

words

without them
we falter
blunder
we fail

as admirals as captains
to map out our journey
to chart our voyage
our trek

to plot our course

whit howland © 2021