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Two Better Pasttimes. ( A Bit O' Rant)

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

This Is It

I Long For Stars

Falling Leaf, Falling Man/Woman, Rising Star

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

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

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

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

All In The Family (Family, What A Concept)


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...

In Layers

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Silent Endings

All Beings Considered

Wake And Remember

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



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

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usually I feel better
only afterwards

writing is akin to
an aching
an opening up of the wound
a blood-letting
to release poisons
into torrents of words

everyday hurts
they take their toll

some poisons are more effective
because they seem to choose me
why do I let them chose?

who in their right mind
would choose poison
its not as if almonds
improve the complexion of the mind

here is my sweet sip
in its pretty blue cup
the one with swaying blue willows

drinking it up
for me
isn't much of a choice

why then
would I even choose?

LEGAL copyright for this poem
and also for this writer
and also for this legally copyrighted
site Title: Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World.
7:23am pst after one very long night

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