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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

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

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We are at a pizza parlor.

We are approached but not recognized.
We are regulars.

The waiter asks:
"Can I take your order please?"

He looks at me, I say

He turns to my friend, she says

Every time it is the same.
The same man. The same question.
The same answer.


He comes back with our drinks.
He remembers this.

We empty our pockets of quarters
into the jukebox. So happy, we are.

We eat
By the forkful.
By the plateful.

The only profit the waiter makes
is from our Tab refills.

Teenage girls
drink a lot of Tab.

Meloo/Melissa A Howells  site: Tilt-a-World
from a recent prompted childhood memory
All stories, ideas and poetry are the legal property of this Author

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