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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

You Are (I'm Here With You)

Joyce Will Soon Be Seventy-Something

All Too Clearly Now

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

Like a Small Child Tucked Into

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Its About Waking In The Middle Of The Night And Having To Write It All Down

in-EFFECTIVE (Fragile)

From The Point Of A Star

Someone Send Out A Search Party

If I Were Your Island....

Spokes Spoken

Plain Speakin' (Lyrical Poem)

All Beings Considered

It Is The Rain

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

I Long For Stars

This Is It

Its Their Problem

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

the life and times of Medusa

Max on the max

Your Next New Dying Black Swan

For the Years of Dancing (Dance Hall Days Gone)

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

Someone Burned The Trees

Crowded Out

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

I Feel Fine(r)

Try To Have A Good Night

Better To Bend Than Be Broken (CHANGE)

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Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

a certain day
in May
I might remember you.
I'll be drenched
in the sentimentality of it.
A flower will sprout from each
blue grey tear
I leak.
Then promptly withering to
will die
at my small gnarled feet.
Unlike the century plant
which lives and thrives but blooms
but once a hundred years.
None of my blooms, so precious,
made of tears, in torrents.

Legal Copyright January 17 2013/ 10:11am PST
 All Legal Copyrights Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells //Meloo Straight from her Tilt-a-World


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