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The smell was sweet
when you dropped

the hammer on that roll
of red ribbon

making the gunpowder

it almost smelled like success
when you watched

your imaginary foe
grab his chest

and fold over
that hitching post

Whit Howland © 2020
An original
I have a list
like one might take
to an auto parts store


the camera then
zoomed in
for a closeup

Whit Howland © 2020
An abstract word painting. An original.
In the remaining
dregs of the day

we wheel our trash
to the curb

it was hot
but the wind now
gusts up

leaves swirl
it will rain

Whit Howland © 2020
A word painting. An original.
big eyes
of glass windows

at a sea
of emptiness
It's all a matter of what
trumps what

your questions about me
and why I'm here

versus my thoughts about
the concrete stumps of

what it once was
and from there

none of this is what you think

I'm not longing for a lost road trip
down Route 66

nor am I lamenting about
a structure ravaged by time

I'm merely wondering
where she went

is she down in the basement
or did she go out for a walk

and should I look for her
or should I  

leave things be

Whit Howland © 2020
An original.
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