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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

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



All Beings Considered

Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

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

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

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Wild and Unraveling

What Must Be

These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

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

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

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

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

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

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

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

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

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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Each One Of Them Is Accounted  For (And Matters)




rounding the curve of I5 North
as a bobsled would maneuver the track
I witnessed
a murder of crows
witnessing the death of one of their own

he lay by the roadside
one wing broken, still flapping
the others giving either encouragement
or proclaiming their vast distress

my eyes a beam focusing
for a moment
the eye of my lens
memorizing the troubling scene

pain registers in the
pulled strings of winces
traveling across my face

if this were a town
not a boorish city
I would ask to stop,
wouldn't I?

death
is sometimes an accident
a footnote
a byline
a glimmer of light on the television
a sentence in the mouth of the reporter
present one moment and then removed
as if it hadn't happened

it must be different
to experience this,
to be an animal..,
but I am an animal
just a different sort

the world is too
BIG
and...
the  counting of significant numbers is minimized
then trivialized by the multitudes of dying
being normalized

but not to these birds
who are already dressed
in their mourning jackets...
each and every Crow is accounted for
and matters...


 ( I see them bowing in the rear window now in unison)

June 14, 2022 happened 2:12pm on the rat-race called I5 North

legal copyright for this poem 5:42PM PST 6/14/2022 time and date stamped
and also for this writer/poet/author MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY REGISTERED AND COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE:
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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