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    Menorrhagia

    We failed her, we failed our mother bleeds oceans from wounds that swell and drown land punched and stabbed by humanity raping the sacred womb wheels off courses flushing despair and anguish on all that was is no longer certain that all that was can be no more damaging if we want to save our Mother Earth.

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    The Wild Hunt

    The oldest stories forgotten blood-stained tales told to young children of old gods born in new fantasies . . . A curtain of snow opens, cold, blue gloom lurks on frozen wastelands where starving men ride horses following baying dogs chases the prey dodging snowdrifts beneath snow-laden branches, evergreens shaking, spilling needles of ice on panting deer, streaming blood pounding adrenaline racing men hunting the old Stag King, a god who knows how to die with dogs flying at hooves stamping powdered ice beating hearts rushing blood dragging deer fallen on it’s side, steaming and panting as snow stains red with warm blood gurgling life flowing out until dead eyes…

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    Baba Yaga

    They say, Baby Yaga liked flying through the skies in her mortar and pestle. Perhaps, the old hag goddess flew in the skies through her mortar and pestle.