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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

I Long For Stars

The Best Revenge (For All Your Critic's Critiques)

Your Next New Dying Black Swan

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

All Too Clearly Now

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Informed Through Pain

Sometimes In Losing I Have Gained A Lot

A Man Of The Clouds

The Birds Are Such Un-numbering Creatures of Distant Hitchcockian Past



Didn't You Learn That First Lesson In Kindergarten?

They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

Cuba Libre


Max on the max

The Little Bird Said

The Factory of Resentments

When My Blues Are Gone

Expect Yourself



Silver-Tongued Devil

Within The Green Wind Becomes The Fall

Think On This--IF YOU WOULD

Open Lines

You Got Your Lilly Back

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feathered friends

I can hear them

yup they're waiting
for me

for the official

The little guy
the fuzzy one
with the wide red
gaping mouth.

I feel for him.
no he makes me feel.
his youth and inexperience.
the singular white feather
on his back.
I hope he makes it.
it takes a lot these days.
even for those of us with

what will be the menu
day old cat food and moldy grapes?
the apartment manager
hawk-eyes me from her
second story perch with

she's feeding the
animals again.
who's the real weirdo?
the upstairs monitor lizard?
or me?

I'm enjoying this family.
they have taken on a kind
of acceptance of me.
they literally recognize me
as non-foe or even better
someone or something good.
that's not bad
not bad at all.
I'll take that any day
of the week.

people seem a whole
lot less capable
of the continuum of
discernment sometimes.

I prefer the cautious
approach, the wait n see game.
I have passed some kind
of test.
a wild animal test.
that is just plain grand.

Meloo/Melissa A Howells from her Tilt-a-World
Copyright August 6 2014
All Rights Reserved By This Author
Author retains all legal rights to
her poetry, stories, ideas, rants

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