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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

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

EVENTUALLY...

The Change In The Change(s)

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THE MILES THAT ARE LEFT TO GO...


my legs are so much older than I am
one works
and one does not

at night
I prop myself up
in my bed
its a warm space
however, I don't sleep
a lot

my right hand aches
so my left hand fills in
when the other
cannot

I'm learning
to live differently
to practice accepting
the sort of choices most people
would not

I count the stars
I talk to the moon
I make stories up in my head
I keep myself company into the night
and journey when others snore
and dream away in their beds

I grab the covers
massage them with my feet
I swaddle my weary head
I have tried prescriptions
and magical potions
and God knows what
Exhaustion works
the very best so far.

I wonder how much longer
I'll be waiting here
And will there be talk of me ever
after I'm dead


we all occupy a space that's ours
and when that space goes bare
where exactly do we go
does a zephyr carry us gently up
floating peacefully
into the night expansive air

will I be recycled
will I simply be gone
will I be like a blank un-filled-in space
what if part of me lingers on
to continue witnessing
what I'm supposed to miss
and see how I've been
replaced

will I be a ghost
will I roam the earth
will I haunt the places
I have been and never been
will I be the dust to mix with the rain
that falls upon the earth
that bossoms and bursts all new green life
cycling over and over again

if there are miles between
what's here and now
or
if there are but a few blocks
let each moment of my last days
be ones to cherish
when I am finally lost.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT 10/20/2020
3:21 pm PST TIME AND DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS POET/WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED
SITE TITLE-MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD







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