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a girl kissed a boy
and told him not to tell
he grew up to be a poet
with a promise kept so well
till he wrote one day a poem
that she’s found reading, but forgot
and wondered if it’s really him
and thinking that it’s not
but buried within these pages
and hidden within the rhyme
were words dripping from his lips
caressing every line
so she came in a little closer
and read it to the end
and found him in the poem
and kissed his lips again
Now it’s your turn not to tell
10,000 steps to a poem

<~>
walk to save my visions, my subterfuge-self, trying to
encapsulate the moments, seconds of nano-instances of a
tableau of histories, of actions becoming interactions,
a physical mitosis, ground into one human paste of word-cells
by a singular mortar and pestle that more than blends, but condenses

walk in Whitman’s footsteps, prowl old cobbled
streets seeing them anew, listening to the patois
of each skyward pathway, a commingling of
catechisms, Tefilot, Salah, Stuti Karana, into a stampede becoming a tornado funnel of a multivariate alphabets singularity - a prayer|poem returning to birth-mother

rush homeward desperate to retain the holy mess of verbal music,
before aged eyes release the visions, into a heavenly lost but found
depot of single lefty gloves, snatches and refrains, hymnals, phrases,
10,000 preservation band steps keeping but scraps, weeping
for the so much lost, yet blessing-uttering thankful for this one,
to a one


who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to
this moment, to this season.


4/4/21
1:50pm
~writ by night, daylight born~
Passover/ Easter Sunday
A handheld bakelite
transistor radio

cream colored
the music coming through

on a small speaker
yes

that's the first time
I heard it

where is she now
does she still know who I am

sometimes goodbye
does mean forever

whit howland © 2021
An impressionistic word painting. An original.
Dance with me
my darling
upon the balcony
in the moonlight
cheek-to-cheek

We can whisper about
the shrouded past with smiles
and promise each other
all sorts of pleasures
one last time

Just close your eyes
my love
ignore the sound
of the wrecking ball
and i will hold you tight

even if for only a moment longer...
I love watching the night sky,
it's like every star is waiting calmly
to share its story with the glistening Milky Way
"همه جا" از حافظ / "همه جا" توسط لیپستاد


Hafiz                                              ­           Lipstadt
(1320 ~ 1389)                                            (20th ~ 21st century)
——————                                           ———————­——

Running                                                    Si­tting
Through the streets                                 On the sidewalk curb
Screaming,                                                Ob­serving,

Throwing rocks through windows,     Rocks falling all around,
Using my own head to ring                  Striking my head, ringing in
Great bells,                                               Great waves of thought,

Pulling out my hair,                               My hair stands straight up,
Tearing off my clothes,                          My clothes’ fibers come alive,

Tying everything I own                        All possessions, the poems, yet
To a stick,                                                Unwritten, less valuable than,
And setting in on                                  The air that feeds the flames of
Fire.                                                         Their burning.

What else can Hafiz do tonight        What else can Lipstadt do tonight
To celebrate the madness,                  But acknowledge the truthfulness,
The joy,                                                 The madness,

Of seeing God                                      In~Exhaling God in each breath
Everywhere!                                         Everywhere!
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