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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

Accountants

Shrine

Didn't You Learn That First Lesson In Kindergarten?

They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

Cuba Libre

Dragons

Max on the max

The Little Bird Said

The Factory of Resentments

When My Blues Are Gone

Expect Yourself

TONIGHT

I WILL RETURN

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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what do I  gotta do but start over



those damn slugs have taken over
the tomatoes are four feet high
and were growing more and more
to the sun but
are now rotted at the root

my efforts seem misbegotten
so much anticipation of all
the stews and ragouts
all my plans seem now
gone to mush

the plants look thriving from the top
but underneath
I see the pulpy inch wide stems
scummy and slimy, the roots
holding barely to the dust

its like that sometimes
when the slugs take over
all your plans are rotted at
the root

I feel a sadness is taking
root in my bones
something I cannot weed out

its like those slugs are
trying to get at me

what do I gotta do
but start over
just like the time I did before
and the times
before that.

(these are those
times
the New Romans
goose-stepping through them
streets
and I
the
lost
pilgrim.)

copyright August 12, 2014
All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
All Stories, Dreams, Poetry, Rants are the legal
property of this Writer.
Meloo/Melissa A Howells/Tilt-a-World





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