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Better To Bend Than Be Broken (CHANGE)

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

I Long For Stars

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

What Truth There Is When You See It (Maybe I'm A Man...)



transaction and interchange

Throne Of Stars

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

In The Winter Park

Snow Is A Softening Of The Rain

All Beings Considered

Useless (Eaters)

And Even Stars Die

Time Does Not Recognize Me

The Knowledge...

Some Women/Some Woman

Laughing Maid (They Called Me)

Brilliance

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

I Am Time

Crowded Out

Storms

what makes a monster (sympathy for the monster)

Max on the max

why We celebrate the losers

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

The Times Have Come Back Of Great Want And Lack, This Is The New Great Depression

The Light Goes On In The Attic (WeAll Have Addictons)

Little Water Bug ( learning the lesson of true pain)

Hope You Enjoyed The Eclipse While It Lasted

Written For My Father Who Isn't Here To Know

I Feel Fine(r)

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Certain Succulent Pieces Of Time



time is sweet
and bittersweet
changeable and constant
grasped at but unable to be held onto
except, perhaps, in small and diminishing glimpses

I can no longer be certain of my memory
nor how the passage of time may have altered it
with the droning on of each passing year

how I would like a fresh slice of remembering
those brilliant and shimmering diamonds
certain succulent pieces of time

who will be here to remember for me
when I cease to be
or cease to remember

(will there be a glimmer of something
that was me once...
a mark here
marking the times of me?)

what will my lasting epitaph be
if no grave marker there will be...

(and is the universe altered permanently
each and every time something that
was alive and living once, dies?)



LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS WORK/POEM
AND ALSO BY THIS WRITER/AUTHOR
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS
LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD
TIME/DATE STAMPED 1:42pm/ MARCH 13TH, 2017

DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE. EDITING, IF DEEMED NECESSARY/LATER.





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