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	<title>Getting Something Read &#187; Poetry</title>
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	<link>http://shortpoem.org</link>
	<description>if compression is the first grace of style</description>
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		<title>Frida Kahlo&#8217;s Eyebrows</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/frida-kahlos-eyebrows/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/frida-kahlos-eyebrows/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 04 Feb 2012 04:28:12 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mark Jackley]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=901</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Mark Jakely were like ravens rising, gaining both a closeness to the heavens and strange views of the earth.]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Working In The Garden</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/working-in-the-garden/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/working-in-the-garden/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 01 Feb 2012 03:28:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Barbara Brooks]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/05/working-in-the-garden/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Barbara Brooks Roots, land-locked lobsters, pull free from the soil. Legs intertwine and bodies are two layers deep. Clods of dirt drip loose and drop into the bed. Weeds, winter&#8217;s barnacles, cling to the fragile tendrils. Nestled into new spaces, green antennae catch the breeze. In the spring, they will become iris.]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Catching On the Wrong Times</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/catching-on-the-wrong-times/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/catching-on-the-wrong-times/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 29 Jan 2012 02:19:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sivakami Velliangiri]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1264</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Sivakami Velliangiri Each time I call him on the cellular phone I am conscious of a circumstantial drone. If I miss him amidst a very busy meeting, hoping to hear a lady&#8217;s moan, it is the grocer&#8217;s shopping.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/catching-on-the-wrong-times/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Need for Flight</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/the-need-for-flight/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/the-need-for-flight/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 26 Jan 2012 01:32:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Scott Owens]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/06/the-need-for-flight/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Scott Owens Two doves, or one, and a spot on my window ride the winded wire, one, spreading its wings from time to time to stay on top, the other, absolute in its ideal sense of balance, needing no wings, and going nowhere.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/the-need-for-flight/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Potential Of Speech</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/the-potential-of-speech/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/the-potential-of-speech/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 19 Jan 2012 21:46:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Martha Christina]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/09/the-potential-of-speech/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Martha Christina Free of cage and owner, returned to the multitude, a parrot might articulate what the others had only thought: how good to be one of a flock. Blogged with the Flock Browser]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/the-potential-of-speech/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>And if the stars fail us</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/and-if-the-stars-fail-us/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/and-if-the-stars-fail-us/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 Jan 2012 21:11:55 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dretta Grace White]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=998</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Dretta Grace White And if the stars fail us What becomes us  then My darling ones What becomes us now A song A psalm The unfolding line A rhyme Tales of sorrow so swiftly said The heart beats once Twice Or none What becomes us My darling ones What keeps us here]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/and-if-the-stars-fail-us/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Under moonlights magic</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/moonlights-magic/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/moonlights-magic/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 13 Jan 2012 20:16:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kippy Stewart]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=150</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Kippy Stewart Under moonlights magic Cricket songs sound long of summers passing too swiftly, towards Octobers Fall. When snowflakes pile in winter, &#8216;ll dream dreams of summertime Within the rhythm of Crickets lullaby&#8230;.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/moonlights-magic/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Why I Feel How I Do</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/why-i-feel-how-i-do/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/why-i-feel-how-i-do/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 10 Jan 2012 19:01:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Howie Good]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=896</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Howie Good Because day by day I am less real Because the cemetery half-listens Because the mirror mutters too Because stranded here for now Because the sky is everyone&#8217;s Because though poorly patched in places and attracted to the form of a mountain Because like an accidental gunshot Because she says it isn&#8217;t raining [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Way Out</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/the-way-out/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/the-way-out/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 07 Jan 2012 18:18:53 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=999</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky The way out isn&#8217;t under or over or around or even through. It&#8217;s with. With is the only way out. In fact, out isn&#8217;t the way out either. Out is a misnomer.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/the-way-out/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>4</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>On the Bluff</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/on-the-bluff/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/on-the-bluff/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 Jan 2012 17:44:13 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Neal Whitman]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry Prof.]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=897</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Neal Whitman mist settles on the soft harbor surf sounding gentle ship horn and seal bark in rain on shore under fog we know they are there four buoys below no one on shore but gulls]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/on-the-bluff/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Vacation, Cape Cod</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/vacation-cape-cod/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/vacation-cape-cod/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 01 Jan 2012 16:16:03 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Susan Dion]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=858</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Susan Dion You&#8217;ve thrown those dark weary work shoes before the old cottage&#8217;s entrance door. A summer ritual. Deliberately discarded, the muddied, masculine footwear conveys an image of carelessness. But these are dual sentries whose sole mission is to halt any troublemakers, thieves, attackers, or worse, remaining on duty both day and night, providing [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/vacation-cape-cod/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>6</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Inspiration</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/inspiration/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/inspiration/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 29 Dec 2011 14:00:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Michal Mahgerefteh]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1169</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Michal Mahgerefteh I wait for words to inscribe softly, to direct the days to come. In this waiting my throat is tight, unable to voice a shade of worthy memory. I reel in the house of flesh, listening to the breathing of sleeping nature, drink &#8217;til drunk on pomegranate wine and lean against the [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/inspiration/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Acrostic Ballad of the Sleeping Gypsy</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/sleeping-gypsy/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/sleeping-gypsy/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 26 Dec 2011 13:36:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Neal Whitman</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Neal Whitman]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry Prof.]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=165</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Neal Whitman Gypsy music in a dream Attracts a lion to man and mandolin Rousseau inspires the poet to capture Contours of a ballad in crystalline color It is a dark mysterious song A distant murmur under the moon. &#8220;Let me climb On the mountain, mountain Rumors of warm dawn Come through the olive [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/sleeping-gypsy/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Naming</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/naming/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/naming/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 23 Dec 2011 11:13:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Francine Marie Tolf]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/11/naming/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Francine Marie Tolf We have lost our ability to name. We say collateral damage, downsizing, factory farm. Error in judgment. Extraordinary rendition. We say sky, but we don&#8217;t mean it. We say antelope, owl, as if these words had power. As if the names of animals hadn&#8217;t long fled back into animals, where they [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/naming/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>3</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Edible Blossoms</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/edible-blossoms/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/edible-blossoms/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 20 Dec 2011 09:14:09 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Margarita Engle]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/04/edible-blossoms/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Margarita Engle Rose petal jam, rosebud candy carved into the shapes of people, beasts, birds; syrup of violets, the variations are soothing. Even the names convey magic mimosa butter sandwiches, nasturtium sauce, marigold soup, carnations for melancholy, the fragrance of rose leaves and mint for sleep, tucked in a pillow&#8230;dreams&#8230;]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/edible-blossoms/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Two Short Poems</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/two-short-poems/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/two-short-poems/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 17 Dec 2011 07:05:05 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Alice Folkart]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=924</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Alice Folkart Date Line The date line is fine with me, just can&#8217;t see that far, don&#8217;t know where you are, what day or time it is, We just whizz past it. God&#8217;s in his Heaven, all&#8217;s night on this world. Jet Lag The soul moves at its own pace will not win a [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/two-short-poems/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Frozen Lake</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/frozen-lake/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/frozen-lake/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 14 Dec 2011 06:03:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[John Grey]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1000</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by John Grey It either refuses my reflection or still has it, trapped under ice, from the last time.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/frozen-lake/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Birding</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/birding/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/birding/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 11 Dec 2011 05:05:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Margarita Engle]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/04/birding/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Margarita Engle Motionless in the forest I watch a raven&#8217;s flight gunshots too close must I explain my own stillness to wayward hunters?]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/birding/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Spring Haiku</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/spring-haiku-2/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/spring-haiku-2/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 08 Dec 2011 02:54:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Neal Whitman</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Neal Whitman]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry Prof.]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1272</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Neal Whitman The Vernal Equinox — This year, a Saturday — 10:32 Pacific Standard Time — In your Time Zone, how about picking that same moment to find a green spot and lie on your back? the breeze a soft kiss house finches lacing the air my sweater a pillow]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/spring-haiku-2/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Spring Haiku</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/spring-haiku/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/spring-haiku/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 05 Dec 2011 01:47:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Neal Whitman</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Neal Whitman]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry Prof.]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=986</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Neal Whitman a young house sparrow sits in the empty bird bath early morning rain Neal Whitman is a member of the Yuki Teikei Haiku Society of San Jose, the Haiku Poets of Northern California, and the Haiku Society of America. Though contemporaries vary the syllable count, he likes to stick to the traditional [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/spring-haiku/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>4</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Conversation</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/conversation/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/conversation/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 02 Dec 2011 00:10:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Persis M. Karim</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Persis M. Karim]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/04/conversation/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Persis M. Karim She can feel his voice breaking across her body, calling something out in her. She wants to know this story. In the story of lost passports and fathers, the ones they&#8217;ve never had, she senses another story. The way they name themselves. The languages that lie hidden in the throats of [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/conversation/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
<enclosure url="http://shortpoem.org/wp-content/2008/05/Coversation.mp3" length="90330" type="audio/mpeg" />
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Three Cheesy Lines</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/three-cheesy-lines/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/three-cheesy-lines/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 28 Nov 2011 23:28:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bill Britton]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1137</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My former professor, George Held, inspired these thoughts on the subject of cheese: by Bill Britton Something bold, something phew Something Spenwood, something bleue A palatal mellifluence, an aperÃ§u]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/three-cheesy-lines/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Deep Deep Dark</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/deep-deep-dark/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/deep-deep-dark/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 25 Nov 2011 21:55:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Alice Folkart]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=926</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Alice Folkart She gets off the bus by the park, it&#8217;s almost dark, it&#8217;s dark, it&#8217;s dark, there are always men in the park, in the dark, dark, dark, some in the light, having a fight or playing baseball, strike one. Some men run and run and run, around the track, in and out [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/deep-deep-dark/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>A white picket fence</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/a-white-picket-fence/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/a-white-picket-fence/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 19 Nov 2011 18:42:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dretta Grace White]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=957</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Dretta Grace White A white picket fence How odd Lovely for its symmetry Of pointing upwards While barring entry As if to say In perfect Christian tones Not Here   There]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/a-white-picket-fence/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Field Study</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/field-study/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/field-study/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 16 Nov 2011 15:06:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>D.S.</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Michael Gullickson]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/07/field-study/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Michael Gullickson An oak barrel cracked open in a field of sage grass, a home to button mice, song beetles, pollen ants an occasion of fleas. A rusted piece of farm equipment too weathered to identify sits in the same field, alone. I step across a broken fence looking for signs of life in [...]]]></description>
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