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Like The Wind In The Middle Of The Night

Uncovered

The Blue Buffalo

Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

Not Someone's Grand Illusion



Wisdom of the Infinite

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

Patch-Worked Trilogy

I Turn Forward

The Storm

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

Elise, Elise

A Bird, A Fly, A Cripple (Pity Poem?)

The Make-Up of Molecules

HOW

Haiku's In Triplicate

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

EVENTUALLY...

The Change In The Change(s)

At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

EXPECT COMPLICATIONS

A New Clear

What Exactly Comes Next?

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

morning thoughts (begin again)

Encounter Before Dawn

Somtimes in Surrender

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

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A Man Of The Clouds


this morning the fog
closed in
and ate up the world

looking down
to the ground
I found
it was gone

it felt like clouds
surrounded me
and I was
like the man from Swift's epic tale
who lived up in the sky
and only used a ladder to climb down
when he chose to
get a closer view

he took all of his showers
up there
in mostly peaceful clouds
and slept on a wind-swept bed of air
( except for an occasional thunder storm...)

his perspective and perch
were so unobstructed
he may have thought that surely
he had seen it all...

high altitude and
lofty heights can change
a person's perceptions
and also your ideas about
what and who are small

I think audience...
its important to notice this...)

the man's only problems were
his mostly his loneliness
and a propensity
towards being perpetually wet
behind the ears

his Mother too
lived up there with him
at the opposite end of the cloud
for all of her years
but when she died
all of her came tumbling down

its so true
we all must someday
hit the ground

some of us do this running
some of us
don't know how to get up
some simply fall

it makes me wonder
how
life among clouds
would be

maybe simpler
but lonely
and stormy
from being too
far far away

all of these thoughts
I pondered
this morning
as the fog
slowly ate up the world.

**********
LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 8;52 PM PST NOVEMBER 23 2019
stream of consciousness poem directly to the page
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO
FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD










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