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Whit Howland Apr 16
It's the small acts of magic
like the floating bar napkin

the dime for every quarter
or the clean separation

of two straws
tangled as lovers

somewhere south of heaven

these little sleights of hand
turning heads everyday

and changing minds
  Apr 16 Whit Howland
White as new sliced snow,
Black as the fallen crow,
Time stills its random flow.

Deep as the lover’s swoon,
Sultry as the summer’s noon,
Tender like the bud in bloom.

As autumn falters in crimson color,
Shivering cold in pale chill fire,
Love’s flame will come to an end.

Only then will they know...
Only then will they know.
Whit Howland Apr 15
A flashing light
and a painted
Elvis gyration

a silver ball
and the sounds

bing bing
bing **** bing
bing bing bing


I think about you often
how you were bounced
back and forth

between homes
happiness and sadness

and the short stack
of quarters you turned

free game after
free game after
free game after

free game
A word painting with the straightforward message.
Whit Howland Apr 9
it is safe to say
things got weird

our paths diverged
like many rivers
headed to the same ocean

or many veins
carrying blood
from the same pumping heart
magic depends upon believing

and in the dingy hotel room
the ***** in a red dress
the poet and the pen

*** without love

manuscripts that no publisher will read

she removes her earrings
puts them on the bible
on the night stand

and he throws her down
on the ink stained mattress like
a bouquet of dead roses

he beats her

is the old woman
in the alley
covering herself with garbage
to keep warm

tenderness is the wolf and the lamb

he rips off her red dress
and he climbs up the mountain
through the ice and snow

tenderness is the wolf kissing the lamb

if we can find
between warm thighs
that lock us in
like our mother's arms
keeping us from death
if we can laugh
walking along that thin wire
where shadow and life marry
where the lions wait
in the witchwood of our dreams
where angels sing and dogs howl
if we can smile
at children playing  
and sometimes cry,
if we feel the warmth
from someone elses hand

then I say.


deep and fast
between empty eyes
that can hold
no wonder any longer,
climb up through the
ice and snow
and never be found,
and when you get to the top
of that mountain
keep climbing

magic depends upon believing
Whit Howland Apr 2
of flashy yellow nuggets

by the bullion
it is there

if you are fool enough
to search for it
Whit Howland Mar 26
Plastic players
you spin on a spit
in an attempt to knock

a plastic ball
the goal

you are we are
doings things
that are way beyond

our control
A word painting with a straight forward message.
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