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

Words Between Edward And Jane

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

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

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

We Are The Generators

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

In And In Between The Silence 6/21/2022

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

A NOT-S0-SILLY ANTI-POETRY DITTY

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

For My Brother T. J. ( 7/15/2022)

That Once Respite Cave

Dr. Frankenstein's Surprise (Re-Galvanized)

When Mr. Bemish Lost His Last Good Pair of Glasses

A Stranger In a Strange And Angry Land.

Crimson Lake (From 2008, flashing forward to 2022/April 19)

Words Being Yours...Until The Grave 4/23/2022

Summer Storms / Electric Monsters

Your Candle Burning In the Wind

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




***************************************

A stark fact once known
is never un-learned.

Small dogs in Southeast Asia
are sometimes lured
for malign purposes.

At night, my right foot
dangles over the edge of my bed--
the way some Southeast Asian fishermen
bait their hooks with small dogs
to catch sharks.

My foot,
half alive, half-not,
my foot
half useful, half-not;
the small dog
half-alive, half-dead,
the horror threading through
his large brown eyes,
not quite comprehending,
but comprehending.

Who
would bait hooks like this?
Who
would slowly kill
my foot?

The answer
isn't found on the baited hook
nor in my useless foot
dangling over the ocean
awaiting the circling sharks.

It begins with small street dogs
wide-eyed with the promise of meat,
a misplacing of trust
and ends in a turbulent ocean...

The answers never given,
not on the baited hook nor
in the dangling foot.

The answer not given
ends
with the shark.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 10:02AN MARCH 5 2021 TIME/DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS AUTHOR/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD...

THIS POEM CAME TO ME IN A DREAM AND IT SEEMED BOTH APT AND
NECESSARY THAT IT SHOULD BE WRITTEN DOWN.







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