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Uncovered

So Glad I Met You

The Blue Buffalo

Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

Not Someone's Grand Illusion



Wisdom of the Infinite

The Differences

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

MOLECULES

HOW

Haiku's In Triplicate

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

EVENTUALLY...

The Change In The Change(s)

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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The Birds Are Such Un-numbering Creatures of Distant Hitchcockian Past


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feathered sentries
in parking lots
pretended looters
fighting with others
who are not their brothers
over what?

could it be over
what they ain't got...
tiny discarded crumbs
the meagerest ones
too small
to be over-looked
by anyone
except for birds...

they try to choke down
discarded dried up gum
unheathily scattered amongst
the litter
I've even seen them eat
ineatible wrappers
and peck heartily at
holiday glitter

it has been written
it has been read
words of wisdom
that God has said
He that looks out for hungry birds
intrepid little friendless fellow
each and every one

then why so desperate
dashing-diving amid the trash
feathered ones are low on cash

who then has been forgotten
when so many birds
are becoming part of the past
their seasons are nearly done

little birds woebegone
forgotten
among the hulking industry
of man
and robots so fun


when the birds started disappearing
I thought
soon enough with modernity
man/woman wil be done.

the birds are such
un-numbering creatures
unravelings
of distant nightmares
of Hitchcockian past

when you don't treasure
that which is God's
and call it mans'
it will never last

good-bye birds
I am sad
I am nostalgically desperate
see how the feathers fall...

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WHO HAS CREATED THIS DYSTOPIA?
ASK THE CORPORATIONS
ASK THE CHEMICAL COMPANIES
DO YOU WANT A SILENT SPRING?
LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM
12:47am PST NOVEMBER 25 2019
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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