Supine in the breathing grasses
I lie, as a rider passes:
slender woman on a hoss,
figure not unlike Kate Moss,
gees her hoss and tosses head,
goes another way instead.
I would rather that she’d fainted.
Now we’ll never get acquainted.
Edward Bare
Blog Archive
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2017
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August
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- The Wrong Place? - Lester Queripel
- Days We Knew Before The War - Lyndon Queripel
- Fancy Food - Joan Etoile
- The Phantom Bikes of Grandes Rocques - Tony Bradley
- Frog Army - Diane Scantlebury
- A Little Room For Me - Ian Duquemin
- The Naturist - Edward Bare
- Armchair Warrior - Stephen A. Roberts
- Drifting Tunes - Tony Gardner
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August
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