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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Call This Our Autumn

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

It Feels Better To Be Unfinished (Wish-Unspoken, But With My Eyes)



Falling Leaf, Falling Man/Woman, Rising Star

It Comes At Night

The Hot Seasons

Perhaps I Too, Was Frozen

You Are (I'm Here With You)

Joyce Will Soon Be Seventy-Something

All Too Clearly Now

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

Oh What A Fall

Last In Class

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

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

in-EFFECTIVE (Fragile)

I Long For Stars

From The Point Of A Star

Someone Send Out A Search Party

This Is It

If I Were Your Island....

Spokes Spoken

Plain Speakin' (Lyrical Poem)

All Beings Considered

It Is The Rain

Like a Small Child Tucked Into

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

Its Their Problem

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

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I wonder......

I wonder
how apartments
ever came to be called complexes

the people who live
where I live
are anything but complex

most of them
hang-out like laundry
that ought to have been brought in days before
loitering near the smoke shack

my Midwestern upbringing informs me that
smoke shacks are for sausages
and not for people
however if you look just a wee bit closer
you will most likely notice
most of my neighbors are
slowly coming out of their casings

they're yesterdays' news
the hit parade with mostly near misses
and b-sides.

legal copyright for this poem and also for this author/writer
Melissa A Howells and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
2:50pm PST April 7/2018

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