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THIS IS MY CORNER OF THE UNIVERSE, ENTER WITHIN

the wonder that always shall be...

Do You Gather Up Your Days The Way Others Collect Wild Butterflies?

Tender Love New And Quick...

Have You Ever... (DECEMBER 4/2021)



The Man On The Red Bicycle (an ode) RE-EDITED 12/4/2021

Stray Cats and I have an understanding... 11/23/2021 copyright

If It Does Them Any Good At All 11/16/2021 date/time stamped

OUTSIDE-THE CROWS 11/14/2021

Still, More Time NOV 6 2021

The Wonder Cat

Little Bundle I Call Joy

AUGUST 1977 (IN THE REMEMBERING)

Wishing Them Onto Better Days

Seize This Day, The One You're With

Only Grief....

Forgive Me (GHUEY-BOY)

The Loving Art

OUTER SHELL

The Stars Go Out

Soothe (re-edited 1:40Pm 8/17/21 for clarity for me as a five year old)

No One--I Know Who I Am

At My Gnarled Feet 7/27/2021

Here, After?

Burning The Trees Into Ghosts

Only The Lonely.... (its not about what you may think...)

And The Next, And The Next..... (written directly to page, will return later for edits)

My Truth Is Out There (re-edited for clarity of thought and image later)

All My Friends Are Dead, It Seems....

The Better Poem

Crimson Crush (Re-edited and Mispellings Corrected 6/11/2021)

For Boiled Eggs and Mountains

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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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