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Not Someone's Grand Illusion

Wisdom of the Infinite

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

The Differences

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

The Voice Lost In the Wires

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

After Wide Sargasso Sea

Great Big Waterproof World

The Storm

I Turn Forward

Patch-Worked Trilogy

And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

Great Spirit

Elise, Elise

The Make-Up of Molecules

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

Threading Myself Through The River Called Night

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)





At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

morning thoughts (begin again)

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

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I'm having a hard time
feeling grateful.
Not keeping it real.
Or is it in reality?
Too painful
not knowing who's for me
who's against.
And guessing at the monster
that is in between.

The one who's not quite as they seem.
They flash their vibrant colors.
Am I growing color blind?
The monsters simply shape and shift.
Adapting to the emotional climate.

Adults learn to be chameleons.
Children deal in absolutes.
Lies and their metaphors adapt and
change even more quickly.
Trust me. Trust them. Trust myself.
"Who?" I asked.

Nothing or no one answered.
Nothing being a sordid forever.
Except eternity and damnation.
Where is the salvation?

In the sky?
In the earth?

Copyright June 22, 2013 All Rights
Reserved By this Author.

Melissa A. Howells Meloo /Tilt-a-World
Straight from the Blue Menu

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