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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

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They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

Cuba Libre

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Max on the max

The Little Bird Said

The Factory of Resentments

When My Blues Are Gone

Expect Yourself

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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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Butterfly Girls Like Me Were Meant To Fly


I was born
a child of the sixties
but minus two short years
I could have been a wild wild-child
from the start
a bright wide-eyed hippie girl

but my bad intentions
taught me to listen
and behave
when I should have been
making friend with much better times
and NOT fine manners
only to have become their slave

and when I tried to settle into
that much narrower space
that didn't match
it was to a sin of true
self-omission
to which I had married and attached

in my past
I was too busy denying
my lightest freer self
and eking out a living with those
malingering on the dustier shelves

but now I know
I was meant for better things
like shedding my old skin and
spreading out my newly colored wings

butterfly girls like me
were always
(in all ways)
meant to fly


LEGAL COPYRIGHT DECEMBER 11 2016
8;10 PM PST FOR THIS WORK BY THIS
AUTHOR FOR THIS SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD
MELISSA A HOWELLS/ VINTAGE 1958
GIRL OF DECEMBER

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