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

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

That Once Respite Cave

We Are The Generators

Summer Storms / Electric Monsters



Talk To Me In The Dark 7/8/2022

Always Deep Blue (written 7/3-7/6/2022)

His Bitter Chocolate Heart (refrigerator magnet poem)

ANOTHER REFRIGERATOR POEM 7/2/2022

In And In Between The Silence 6/21/2022

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

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)

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

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

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS ANYWAY AND INSTEAD

Your Candle Burning In the Wind

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

On Sunny Days , As I Pose For The Skies 3/17/2022

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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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