meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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The Factory of Resentments

When My Blues Are Gone

Expect Yourself

TONIGHT

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

I Write This To Remember

Errands (WHAT ARE YOUR UNOFFICIALLY APPOINTED ERRANDS?)

And I Smile ( Little Little Bird)

Where The Weird Actually Tried To Turn Pro

the earth is our mother

This Snake

All Of Who I Was

Where The Dead Don't Mind...

Peace Where There Is No Opportunity

Night Train

What Could a Death Meet-Up Have To Offer?

Someone Send Out A Search Party

I Wish God Had Better Magic

Canis Latrans

What's With The Lead Overshoes?

How Does It, How Do You Matter?

THE POCKET DOOR

Like The Wind In The Middle Of The Night

The Hoping

This Is It

The Inner String

For Another Mean New Sun.

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How I Think That About Every One...


I saw the cat seated in front of the puddle
casually drinking
wearing his tuxedo
of black and white
as if he was always well-dressed for any occasion
like any self respecting cat would be
well-groomed
he sat self-assured
by the roadside
he wore no collar
and when I turned to look back at him
I was sure he was lost
but didn't want to appear that way to me
I thought to myself
I wish I could keep him
but I wrote about him instead
I think that about every one
keeping them surrounding me
in white picket sentences
little memories immortalized
in words
so that they're not
abanonded

a singular thought condensation on a November 1st afternoon...
legal copyright for this work and also for this
writer/poet Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title:
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

everything is derivative, like impressions
4:54PM PST Thursday November 1st 2018 time/date stamped





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