Friday, October 31, 2025

Poetry for Women

Running a race through the red poppies

damaging them with every step

time wears away the instances

the photo fades and we are left with a broken channel

stop the vase from filling 

up with water from the mineral earth

the flowers are still in the field

and we have not yet separated the stem

from itself

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Creeping Fox

Update the scotch and whiskey and pour it on my mind I've been deranged and hungry and it's almost supper time The nuances are lost ...