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Knock, Then Come Through

Elise, Elise

Great Big Waterproof World

The Blue Buffalo

Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

Wisdom of the Infinite


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




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)

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Wisdom of the Infinite

Night leaned in and laid out
His stars bright and infinite
and Mars looked back over Its rolled shoulders
and did not blink

the Old Hunter is now going to bed
and I see Him turning to His rest
I wonder, how He sleeps...

in the near-distance the mountains of men
pale, un-moving in the moonlight
they stand tall and rigid
mute unthinking
though thought went into them once
their many-closed-eyes curtained
and inscrutable
so many-celled hives
for living beings
not awake
and always asleep,
unlike me

I want to feel what its like to be Stars
to be brilliant though finite in Their infinity
to make a pattern in Their sky
so that beings beneath and beyond
may see and lay claim enough
to make one singular wish

I see in Them
which knows no bounds

Their silent witnessing back
lingers down into my depths
into the bowl that is the hollowness of
this Dying Planet and Humanity

how we could have better loved
and lived our honorable stewardship
of ALL that makes up Life

and that, for me,tonight,
and could have been,
all the difference.

Legal Copyright For This Poetry  written directly to the page
2:17AM PST June 26,2020 time and date ensure copyright.
And also for this legally copyrighted poet Melissa A. Howells
and for her legally REGISTERED and copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-A-World

written during one of my many wakeful moments in the NIGHT.

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