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YOU DO NOT GROW OLD

I Came From Water

Every One of Us Has a Door....

The House Is Alive

THEY NAMED ME ENOUGH



THE CRYPT OF THE KEPT AND THE KEEPER

UNDECIDED

THE MILES THAT ARE LEFT TO GO...

To Them, I am Dead, I am Dead

I Need To Fly

Burying the Dark

Knock, Then Come Through

Being Ourselves...

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

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The  Make-Up of Molecules


I am made of molecules
and the desk is made of molecules
and the grass is made of molecules
is there any difference
between us?

molecules

does a tree have sentience
does a table know it was once alive...
that it had friends in the forest?

the oily ink within
this pen
allows me to write words and sentences
does ink think
know it once was a dinosaur
the life force flowing through a T-Rex

molecules

do the rice, wheat and oats
that are my Chex
remember being planted
what its like to feel wind
parting its bearded strands
before
all of it was cut
reaped
harvested
by man...

molecules

make a man
a woman
up the land
and a bed
where I lay my head
and think again

of molecules



LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 5/23/2020
9:07 PM PST TIME DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY REGISTERED AND COPYRIGHTED
SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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