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A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life


The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

The Differences

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

Wisdom of the Infinite

Not Someone's Grand Illusion

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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one for me, and one for the horse

pushing the swinging doors aside
the silent man staggered into
the local watering hole
exhausted from a long day's work
of felling and clearing trees

dried sweat laced his furrowed brow
and dust bowl grit lined
his fingernails
coated his teeth

bellying up to the bar
the foreman asked the barkeep
for a tall cold one
and a chaser to soothe
the soreness in his knotted muscles

a whistling sigh escaped his pursed lips
as he slowly drank
slaking his aching thirst

the doors swung wide
and another man rode in
this time
on horseback
wearing a ten gallon hat
ducking as he entered the doorway

the stranger, in turn,
bellied up to the bar
his appaloosa
16, 17 hands high
cozying up beside him

"fill er up,"
bellowed the broad-shouldered man
pointing to the tall hat
"and a boiler maker fer me."

the CCC foreman scratched his head
and bent over with laughter
as the thirsty appaloosa drained the
ten gallon hat
filled with beer
then belched.

The CCC Foreman was my Grandfather Thompson
This is a true story.

Copyright January 20, 2014
All Rights Reserved By This Author
Meloo Melissa A Howells/ Tilt-a-World

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