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Appetites

Entanglements

THE TIDE CALLED LONELINESS

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

The Smile Which Eludes @



He Says To Me, I Think Too Much (and hence dream too much as well)

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)

Words Between Edward And Jane

When You Learn Who You Really Are And What Is...

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

It No Longer Surprises Me...

My Grey Haired Love...La La Lullaby , La La Lullaby My Love

You Do As You Please 8/17/2005 found poem, readjusted 6/20/22

Anti-Poem Number Three 8/2/2022 Or, A Poem Your Proper Mother Wouldn't Write

Breathing On My Own

A Girl Is More Than a Beautiful Box re-edited 10:15pm PST 1/31/22

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS ANYWAY AND INSTEAD

Talk To Me In The Dark 7/8/2022

ANOTHER REFRIGERATOR POEM 7/2/2022

A NOT-S0-SILLY ANTI-POETRY DITTY

In And In Between The Silence 6/21/2022

Not Alone In the Darkness (As I Once Thought I Was)

Each One Of Them Is Accounted For (And Matters)

The Fire Once Within Goes Cold From Lack

Like Books Full Of Stories Stacked Behind Her

Call It Grace (another Anti-poem)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

Lights Out

Saudade: the feeling of wanting to be near someone who is far and distant

That No One But I Will Know (anti-poetry)

To Be In The Way

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The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021


I write this
for those who are gone
before their time
the happy 92 year-old husband
who was planning a surprise for their 60th anniversary
the forty-five year old father
who spent the holiday with his family
and then died the next week
and for the child who wanted to be
an astronaut and a gymnast and a mommy

I write this
for those whose grief
drenches the earth
yet still hope
for a field of daisies

I write this
for those shut in
and needing fresh air
and the lungs to breath it

I write this for my memories
sweet ghosts of not yet one year ago
you're my comfort, my confidantes
who remind me
the days of future
are not passed

I write this for the faces
the spaces
I long to hold and touch
but must suffice with lucid dreams
and the night-tears of remembering

It seems at times
I am all wet
and this has been the longest winter
of my mind
shut in yet wide awake
dreaming the emotions
of those who en masse are dying
of those who are weeping

and how they cannot be replaced
the old who've earned their
rest, respect and reprieve
and the young who had fewer miles
between them and a clock
that was broken
when it still should chime

time and sunrises
and sunsets
and the soft moments of the day
will never erase them

away-away
we will be walking
where they walked
for a long long time after
and how we'll marvel over
who they were
how they lived
their simplest deeds

impermanence is
now branded indelible
within the shrines of our hearts

I see them here
still
long after their
shadows ceased to create
the necessary gathering of electrical
impulses etched upon my brain
their absence is the wane and the  wail
and not in the lack of input
but within the great tsunami
of our grief.  


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 2:05AM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME
MARCH 2, 2021 TIME/DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS
LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE-MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD...





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