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I Am A Creature Of The Night. 5/31/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE FOR FUN

All Beings Considered

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

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

Words Between Edward And Jane



After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

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

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

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

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

In The Sanctuary Of My Head

The Broken-Winged Birds and People (re-edited 4/5/2323 3:03PM PST) (re-edited 11:14am PST 2/23/2023)

The Hell Of Winter (re-edited 4:27pm PST 3/9/2023)

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

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

When Mr. Bemish Lost His Last Good Pair of Glasses

Kathy Brown Kathy Brown

Something Not Quite Right About Here (Vortex) re-edited 1/26/2023

THE COOL TILES BENEATH MY FEET REMIND ME

The Way Of The Crow

DO YOU TURN THE LIGHTS SO YOU CAN SLEEP?

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

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When Mr. Bemish Lost His Last Good Pair of  Glasses


on a night
of pure blue-midnight ink
piles of laundry were left unfolded
and Alfred Hitchcock
whose words lolled lazily
out of the spittled-corner of his mouth,
told his very last story ever
on an invention called television:

Mr. Bemish
was just reading his last great novel
while eating ravenously 2 slathered pieces of
buttered toast--toasted only on one side
English style

the last words He read were:
they kept building pyramids to their Gods
until the Gods faltered
and tumbled down over the world
making the neighborhoods of Earth
into one great backyard rubbish Pile
with no matching pieces anywhere...

Mr Bemish lost his remaining pair of glasses
and the stars peered down at him
blinking out the two perplexed words "Blue-who?"
when Bemish was swallowed into an oncoming Black Hole
along with his last good pair of horn-rimmed glasses

a black hole singularity
(for sure)
in one Big Gulp
(which was the appropriately
inappropriate exact opposite of
The One and Only Original Big Bang!!)

Jane and Mr. Rochester evaporated--
having not finished true declarations of love

Moby Dick circumnavigated the entire globe
dragging Ahab down into its very depths

the Old Man told the Sea
the earth is flat
so you are not boundless
and fell off the shelf
of the flat earth

No longer The Best Of All Possible Worlds,
Candide and his echoing proclamations
went unheard

Le Petit Prince lost his dreams--
and Saint Exupery, his stars
(etoiles grande)

The Great Spirit Closed His weary eyes
and sighed....

why why why
so much time
and then
in no time
everything
imagined and real
gone
again?



this is my experiment into Anti-poetry. There may be more to follow
LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 12:44pm  PACIFIC STANDARD TIME 5/17/2022
TIME/DATE STAMPED...IF THERE IS SUCH A CONSTRUCT AS TIME AND DAY....
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS, IF SHE DOES INDEED EXIST
IN THIS UNIVERSE OR ALSO IN MANY PARALLEL UNIVERSES, AND ALSO FOR THIS
LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE: WHICH MEANS, LITERALLY THAT THIS BELONGS
IMPLICITLY TO THE WRITER WHO MAY OR MAY NOT EXIST.....
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD@
IF THERE STILL IS A WORLD AND IF IT EVEN TILTED TO BEGIN WITH...

TO THOSE WHO REMAIN UNKNOWING...LOOK UP ANTI-POETRY AND YOU WILL UNDERSTAND
MY MEANING. OR YOU MAY ALREADY KNOW, IF SO THANK YOU FOR COMING TO THIS IMAGINARY
EXPERIMENTAL UNIVERSE OF ANTI-POETRY





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