meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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All For Algernon

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

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Its About Waking In The Middle Of The Night And Having To Write It All Down

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Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

Max on the max

All My Children ( CATS ARE PEOPLE TOO)

How I Think That About Every One...

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Someone Send Out A Search Party

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Call This Our Autumn

Small Sentry

If I Could Be The Sky...

All Too Clearly Now

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Evidence

Afterwards...

It Comes At Night

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Time Does Not Recognize Me


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time has no definite shape
though it feels somewhat like the formation of clouds
massing and then dissipating
building up billowing anvils in the sky
and then discharging great energy
I breathe the same air
recycled for billions of years
I am borrowing it
from the trees and animals which
were the first respirators of this new earth
this is why I owe this world
a debt
a debt of gratitude
a debt of responsibility to leave it as I used it
a debt to even the notion of time
a human construct
that the ages will not even recognize
time does not recognize me

even though I was here
I too shall be recycled
in time

************
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legal copyright for this poem
and also for this writer
Melissa A Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
11/10/2017 2:06pm PST time/date stamped





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