melissaahowells

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Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

Wisdom of the Infinite

THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

The Differences

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall



I Turn Forward

The Storm

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

The Make-Up of Molecules

I Will Return

Marinate On This

A Smattering Of Mattering (How Do You Matter)

Threading Myself Through The River Called Night

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

from the tomb of three days sleeping

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

Lemonade Days and Rhubarb Pies

Life Among Clouds

HOW

EVENTUALLY...

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

morning thoughts (begin again)

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

A Man Of The Clouds

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

Somtimes in Surrender

Encounter Before Dawn

Shedding Your Skin

Liminality

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The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)


a blue plastic bag
went rolling along the tracks
pushed along by the wind

"keep rolling..."
it told itself
keep rolling-as if
it had a choice

this wasn't a playful ballet
the blue bag being insubstantial
with no tether to tie itself down
no help forthcoming

it had to try
to hold onto itself
believe that the winds would die down
or change directives

there's nothing quite like
change
and how one day
it simply
shows up.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 12:12PM PST 2/19/2020
TIME AND DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS AUTHOR/WRITER
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY REGISTED
AND COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE: MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD







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