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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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Enough to Clear The Rain Away

he asked me for a handout
his hand was out
honest face with blue eyes wondering

delving into his eyes
I ventured
usually don't do this
passed him a buck
he thanked me kindly

inquired what the aluminum bowl was for
the one on his head

to keep the bird-pooh off
it melts my brain
and a fella needs to remain sharp
when he's living on the QT

then he gave me a double-blue blink
with both azures

and dashed across the street
dodging traffic
emerging with a box of chocolate covered mints

bounding back across
he thanked me again saying
better than a toothbrush

surely a delightful encounter
enough to clear the rain away
from my presently desolate life

in spite of myself
I smiled

Copyright February 13, 2016/All Rights Are Reserved
By This Writer
All Ideas/Prose/Poetry/Rants are
the Expressed Legal Property of This Author

Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World

This fellow isn't an addict/simply struggling with mental illness:
even so, I am reminded, there but for the grace of God go I.


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