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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

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

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

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

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Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

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


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


a sharp intake of breath
a gust that would flatten buffalo grass
on early Spring prairie days

I've realized how high
my anvil thoughts have been
filing in my head
watch how they billow and rise
congregating into
a gathering storm

70,000 plus daily thoughts
Quantum Physists have theorized--
I've created them each and every day
like the overly-active electrons they are,
bombarding and battering the space
between the whorls of my ears

depriving me of peace and sleep
they join the thoughts of 7 billion others
who also breathe and have the ability to
create chaos or release

they rotate and shift
sidewinders
leveling what certainty
and solace there might be
or ever has been

thoughts tinged with green-yellowed hues
tattoes you can't quite undo
transform and scar
my skin
a landscape where I'm
attempting to hide
who and what and where I've been

here
within my home station
few trains dock or merge
arterial tracks to my heart
have been in ill repair
the map of their travels erased
my heart needs no other
passenger(s)
the station's music
is a lively dirge

I only travel now
outside my body and back
within the universe
of my unrefined mind
there is no lack

the restlessness I conjugate
the subjects and verbs I write
may continue on to circumnavigate
long after I have died

a whirling kind of evidence
that I was once alive
forever kinetically connected
to the brain that was my hive

who do I think I am
never as they've named me
too busy with their lives
they were
to ask or consult me about my own
nor tame me

the train tracks are gone
the station's doors all closed
I wear nothing now
especially not
the uniform that was not my own

find me wearing my pale suit of skin
playing at puppets with my gnarled feet and hands
I give you my final estimations
in the waning of the fallen night
near my last day's end

see the trailing sparks
see the little flocks of fireflies
see my Cheshire smile grinning bright
keen I am on all my calculations
oh what fine physics
before me, lies......



LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM  APRIL 15 2023 7:49PM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME
TIME AND DATE STAMPED. AND ALSO FOR THIS POET/AUTHOR/WRITER SINCE SHE WAS
5 YEARS OLD--MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTTEN
AND LEGALLY REGISTERED SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD

I'm thinking about my Grandfather Thompson...and how he was born today
and how he did his best to love me as I was/ Thank you Grandpa Walter William.
You and only you knew how hard it was for me to earn and study my way through
Journalism School I love you always. Thank you, WWT.


For the time being, I've voted for the ambiguity of the last line...in the future
I may alter it once more and remove the comma...oh what a great difference a little line can make.

re-edited for clarity and finer defintion 4:37pm PST 4/17/2023, much improved....





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