a day in February

February 25, 2017 § 2 Comments

a day in February
isn’t usually this warm 
I am below a struggling sun

thinking of the instinct of birds 

and arranging plantings in my head 
I hear the oratory of my granddaughters 

as they stage one of their melodramas

in the leafless copse

at the back of the yard
I move some rolled up fencing

from this place to that

for no other reason than to temporarily 

placate an itch to be the in the garden

and to be

in some small way

of purpose 
I follow their song as they weave

among the trees

envious of their innocence 

as they spiral outward
ignoring for now

their lodestar 

as it beckons their attention

from the edge of forever 
(c) 2017 Fred Whitehead 


Some of my books on Amazon. One is a collaboration with David Rothbart 

February 8, 2017 § Leave a comment

Erysses book 2 – IX

February 8, 2017 § Leave a comment

please think of me as
I so often



you do
my patience

             (now exhausted
I could not tell by your longing

what kind of flower almost bloomed

no language has a word for it
even though it was a weak joy

we sought the very shape of it

changed since those first wonderings
when all that was of concern was 

constructing our own narcotic


                   to go along

                   some natural course
but we 

drew the pin out of that ordinance
threw it on the road before us 
now we are but voices in our heads

linked together by rain

and rain only
     sitting all day in a picture


a kind of evening feeling

a quiet dusk
(c) 2017 Fred Whitehead 

as far as January Saturday’s go

February 4, 2017 § Leave a comment

my fingerjoints
by the wind were stiffened

yet with some hint of sun

in the grey my spirits

lifted with thought of winters ending 

with collar around face as bandage

I stepped

as lively as could manage out to the coop with water and feed

seeing tracks in snow leading 

to a few doe at the back of the lot

if not for that

nothing new to the day 

back inside 

I’ll hide from the woes that trickle without end across wireless

though tired I’ll read from a stack

leaning back in my chair

reworking the homestead in my head

until I sleep simply

for the sake of sleeping 
(c) 2017 Fred Whitehead 

My latest book 

January 21, 2017 § Leave a comment

My latest book can now be purchased on Amazon as well as createspace 

untitled 12/22/2016

December 22, 2016 § Leave a comment

untitled 12/22/2016
star cloud rising above spire 

some prelude to release 

northern chill as a finger spider

prowling from

base of spine to base of skull
                    is there plausibility

                    among the trees?
I wonder

if I could ever

care enough to

take up axe
and if so

will I find only regret 

back to stump

fighting sleep

surrounded by the fallen
(c) 2016 Fred Whitehead 

the promotion 

December 20, 2016 § 2 Comments

after a few years in purgatory 
middle management there

assigned to me a stool

handed me a clipboard and

said I was in charge of new arrivals
as they were

researching the best deals

on flights and resort packages

and packing up golf clubs and such

they handed me

the key

to the executive washroom 

and hurried through a rundown 

of the purification process 
there are rules to this kind of thing

one of them said 

as he adjusted his tie
another one set his luggage by the door


got to watch ’em

a sly lot they are 

always complaining about the hours 

and accommodations
I was warned

as they were stuffing themselves into the waiting limo

that the head office sometimes screwed up the duty roster

said I might have to refer to the manual to see what job is best suited to

which offense
up ’til then 

I was a sweeper of halls and stairwells

the mucker-outer of stalls

the peeler of turnips and taters
now the redemption of souls

was in my hands

I wanted naught of it
when the first bus load

pulled up to the gate

I checked off names

and handed out pajamas
the barracks are that way I said

the mess hall over there

keep the noise down I told them

and the place clean
didn’t give much

more instruction 

beyond that
day after day

I sat there

waiting on the bus

doodling in the margins of the rule book
the bosses never did come back

but things were quiet

things were tidy
just as any salvation should be
(c) 2016 Fred Whitehead