We step out to see the poppies
peeled their pods, felted raincoats
flopping flays of raw orange-red;
they will never stay dry again.
If they knew it was the last time
landing limp-faced on the wet grass,
would they undress this fast?
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Contemporary writing from Canada and around the world
Poets love to cry
aflutter with poise
Voyages down under
There's a hip grandparent in all of us!
community creativity from Whatcom County, Washington...and beyond
"We're all out there, somewhere, waiting to happen."
Literary as hell.
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My Race Reports
Conversations with Street People
unlock your kundalini power, ignite your third eye, awaken your inner oracle
say you had to give up the story of your life so far - would you do it?
Leadership of the Divine Feminine