Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Loops and Such

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Irish crochet
Photographer: Alexa Bender

I write words like loops
which I pull through with my crochet hook
designing hats and scarves and blankets as I go
intricacy unfolding

engage, yarn over, pull through
write, erase, rewrite

these projects which failed to call to me all fall
feel the pinch of Christmas looming
and while I write
I count squares of blankets in my head
and wonder why I leave things until
the very last minute

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

A Condition of the Heart

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 Eis, zugefrorener See
 Florentin Moser

my heart feels distant 
meted out in the periphery of my vision
its edges bristled 
without my understanding why

with eyes slit
i can spy it
across the horizon of my days
glistening in the hardened light
the center cracked under a burden
bargained and paid for
with tears fixed in place
by dime store mascara

and i wonder if i will find my way
across it's face
before it is too late
to soften toward spring again

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

posted for dVerse Poets

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Remembered Afternoons

wikimedia commons
Monet, verger en fleurs
in the public domain in the United States

I pencil in the blues and greens of remembered afternoons,
The leftovers of summers which linger best on the tongue
their sweetness understood viscerally
with an aftertaste hovering in the periphery of closeted thought.
The days hung loosely folded then
Their gauzy nature swayed in the waft of the bees’ flight,
Evincing a softness which lay easily upon you.

In our indolence,
We failed to notice the bite of time on our backs.
Now I color in between the lines
charcoaled in when I wasn’t looking.
Those blues and greens pastelled together,
A picture of a time gone,
The last of those summers for us.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Posted for dVerse

Sunday, November 24, 2013

My heart on this autumn morning

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The River Avon at Sea Mills.

I am grateful for the life I have this morning--

i watch the dust motes circle in their small orbits
falling around each other like stars
kissing the dust of loves left behind,

their patterns holding my heart as it turns.

i hold the promise of a newly minted day,
coffee cup pressed against my cheek
to let its warmth seep in
next to the place you leave behind each day,

as i turn toward the sun again.

i feel the press of you
encoded somewhere in my skin
DNA metered and puzzled out over time

a lifetime of days, folding one into another
weaving blues and greens,
a sea of cotton,

their patterns a cushion for my heart.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

posted for Poets United

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

A Little Death

wikimedia commons
Vera Buhl
Leaves, Bodenheim, Germany

they dance in their way

moving to rhythms

deeply embedded

in messages carried by sap

stung by autumn's latent kiss

they die the little death

mourned by grub and weevil

as blood dances upon

withered leaves


an italic

upon a plate

of copper


and i,

festooned in their garb

shed my worry

as they do theirs

each to a small sleep


a book of changes


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

forgive my absence. November is being usurped by Nanowrimo--

Sunday, November 3, 2013


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Naherholung: alter Rhein zwischen Hohenems und Lustenau in Vorarlberg
-Böhringer friedrich

The brevity of moment

          Shines its light upon the mist

A pearled sky above.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Posted for Poets United

Sunday, October 27, 2013

i grieve for you

i thumb tacked my sorrow up on your wall

again yesterday.

your facebook page telling us all

that you lost Libby today.

It was Sunny last week.

Kajarkur a couple of months back.

they get old and sick

and we watch they die

hold them so they can go easy

and tell them again how much we love them

as we ease them toward death

and ourselves toward the pain that lies waiting.

sorry isn't enough

not by a long shot.

my words don't help much

but they are all I have

to let you know

that i hurt for you.

My inlaws--Bill and Kay--two of the gentlest and most loving people I know, had to put their two dogs down during the last two weeks. I grieve for them.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Posted for Poets United

Saturday, October 19, 2013

A Taste of You

wikimedia commons
Anna Bilinska-Bogdanowicz

My desire swells

    Stitches pulling

        Against tightly folded days,

   Piercing skin

       With blackened needles

Pungent in its patina.

Colors stroke cheek and arm

  As I reach

For the image of you

     I have scattered in the stars.

I press my eyes against them 

as I gather them

In the fullness of my skirt,

A bowl of you

Offered up


As I taste you again.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013 

Posted for Poets United.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Afternoon's Exhalation

Ukiyo-e print book wrapper (fukuro). MEDIUM: 1 print : woodcut, color. CREATED/PUBLISHED: [between 1830 and 1880] Page in: Ezōshi fukuro harimazejō. [Japan, not before 1878]. Published in: The floating world of Ukiyo-e : shadows, dreams, and substance / essays by Sandy Kita ... [et al.], New York : Abrams in association with the Library of Congress, 2001, p. 207. Exhibited: "The Floating world of Ukiyo-e: shadows, dreams and substances," organized by the Library of Congress, 2001. No known restrictions on publication in the U.S. From the Library of Congress.  In the public domain in the United States.

The afternoon gently

sifts amber light

across the backs of leaves

veined by autumn's first push.

I watch their shadows dance

in the wind's chatter.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt

posted for dVerse

Sunday, October 6, 2013

City of Secrets

wikimedia commons
 Madonna des Kanonikus Georg van der Paele, Detail: Bibel und Brille des Kanonikus
Jan van Eyck

I sit in the city of secrets

Chasing midnight dreams,

The sacrilege of smiles,

As lost as scars held tightly

On the shadow’s river.

The ghosts of spirits dance next to me,

Their first dance

Calibrated to end at black desire.

The devil dons her diadem

Seeking the restoration of urban fantasies

Milking a bit of death along the way

Out in the unincorporated zone

On a cold fired road.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

I was waiting for jury duty in the county library--and made this up from book titles I saw on display in front of me. 

posted for Poets United 

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Drawers of Dreams

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Laundry at the Daluaine Summer House, Highland Folk Museum, Newtonmore, Scotland
Paul Hermans

you wrap your dreams
in sheets of softest cotton,
Pima maybe,
folding them carefully
to fit in the drawers
you have created for them.

squares of imgination
carefully creased,

catalogued in a book kept 
especially for easy reference.

it crosses your mind but rarely
to pull the drawer open and peek inside.

but i caught you 
in that very act the other day,

your head cocked just so
folding back their covers
the smile playing on your lips
in the warm light.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

posted for dVerse

Monday, September 2, 2013

A Whispered Moment

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The Veil, Fernand Khnopff

I move through days

Of limned frost,

of silent rain.

Piecing moments of coherence

through the whispered voice

and a sharpened pencil;

making my sense

by leaving my mark.

Each poem

a little-used corner

of life—

Mine, or another’s—

And as I do so,

I see myself

on the periphery,

a veil between us.

Perhaps it must be so

for the whispered voice

to come in advance of life’s to-do list

and for me to incline my head enough to hear it.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Posted for dVerse Poets Open link Night

Sunday, August 25, 2013

For Helene

wikimedia commons
Small twin girls in front of 1911 Buick roadster
Library of Congress

i hold the memory of you
close inside,
a paper swan
folded long ago
when we were both small
and trying new things,
feeling as though
we had all the time in the world.

youth blazed strong in us then.
you were my mirror
and in you i saw my own
heart shining fiercely.

time and distance
has forced each of us
to seek out different
mirrors of the soul,
but i still hold the breath of you
every time my eyes
find that swan atop my piano.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

In The Garden of my Tears

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Author unkown, illustration for the book "Italy," written but not illustrated by Frank Fox, published in the UK in 1918

In the mornings now
I walk through the garden of my tears
Harboring secret thoughts
Of your return
As I wipe dust off
The fragmented flowers
Residing there.

During those times
Oft sighted
The smallest wren sits
Atop a silvered rose
Warbling tunefully in my ear
Reminding me of songs left unsung.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Posted for dverse poets

Posted for Posted for 

Friday, August 16, 2013

A Fast 15

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timeless books
Lin Kristensen

Door swings

Open or closed

Dependent on the current

Of the moment.

Its hinges oiled

With the spit of words

Slicked down

From memory’s corridor,

A hallway of lies turning round itself.

The maze of truth

Beyond the marrow

Of such


We push through.

The thought of the day,

The jargon of the elite

Streaming through

Unable to stop ourselves


In the glory of the observed

For a fast 15 or so.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

posted for Poets Pantry

Saturday, July 20, 2013

A Bellyful of Dreams

wikimedia commons
Emile Chaus
Portrait of Madam Claus, 1900
In the public domain in the United States

i had a bellyful of dreams

     not too long ago,

stored in a sack

     around my waist.

when i walked

     they bounced.

and sometimes,

     they spoke a little bit

here and there,

     reminding me

of colors used to paint words

but more vibrant somehow,

   their sss’s more pronounced

    their waves of color washing over me

lest i forget them

and the me i once was.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Posted for the Poetry Pantry and for Dverse Open Link Night

Saturday, July 13, 2013

A Penance of Color

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An image made with Apophysis.TheScurvyEye 23:28, 8 January 2006

Fluttering crimson, pale against winter white

A tattering, misted by wind

Wave before her eyes

Bending light.

Around her folded heart

She perceives a moment of tear-filled sight

As Pleasure’s company now departs

Amidst waltzing leaves

Shivering in jackets

Of gold and brown,

Buttons ajar in the light.

She wears her heart

Like a badge,

Emblazoned in heedless embroidered


Blooming red

In a field of white.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

Me playing with form--yikes

posted for Poets United

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

21 Grams of Grace at 60

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The Trip of the Soul
Maria Rosaria Sannino

Some people just radiate it.

Like the shine on skin in the noonday sun,

it slides off easily

almost weightless,

the gravity of soul,

a part of that tiny amount we all lose at death.

On him, it feels as light as his blue eyes

on a summer morning

when the soft light plays a gigue

at the corner of his sleep,

while I dance a diaphanous two-step

my feet barely touching earth.

He doesn’t know it, but

his heart is as big as the ocean outside our door,

its vastness whispering the secrets of love

to ears attuned to its rhythm.

grace slides in and out 

with an ease I will never know,

that 21 grams of weight of his grace,

without bounds,

but for the touch of one soul upon another

as it fills the space between us.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013

My husband makes me a better person. He is is best man I have ever known and he just celebrated his 60th birthday. This is for him.

Posted for dVerse