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	<title>Getting Something Read &#187; Paul Hostovsky</title>
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	<link>http://shortpoem.org</link>
	<description>Short Works for the Peripatetic Web Surfer</description>
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		<title>Still</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/still/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/still/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 01 Sep 2010 08:00:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=556</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky When there&#8217;s nothing to say there is still this to say, still there is this like a birdbath in someone&#8217;s yard in your childhood, not your birdbath or your yard and no birds now, or rainwater yet, just this palm, this listening for the rain, this memory of a waiting place made [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>The Dollar in the Wishing Well</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/the-dollar-in-the-wishing-well/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/the-dollar-in-the-wishing-well/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 15 Aug 2010 06:24:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1024</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky Expensive delicate boat with a hundred chances on board floating above the drowned brown pennies with their one chance each piled on top of each other on the abject bottom. It wavers, shivers, turns over and the green president goes under and in god we trust and all that fancy acanthus leaf [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Portrait of Gerald Stern</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/portrait-of-gerald-stern/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/portrait-of-gerald-stern/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 24 May 2010 05:22:55 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=758</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky There&#8217;s a poem in Gerald Stern&#8217;s mouth. If you&#8217;ve ever gone to see him read you&#8217;ve noticed that thing he does with his lips, pursing them, flaring them, wetting them like a pair of water birds come to drink and mate in the middle of his face, preening themselves between the words, [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Gray Baseball Hat</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/gray-baseball-hat/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/gray-baseball-hat/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 17 May 2010 05:14:12 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=910</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky I&#8217;m rooting for gray. Because there&#8217;s too much black or white in the world. Too much win or lose. And much too much rain or shine. Go gray! Give me a gray day with a very fine rain&#8211; more like a mist coming at the bottom of the 4th, deepening the colors, [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/gray-baseball-hat/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Work</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/work/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/work/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 12 May 2010 05:19:01 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=955</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky Someone has left an orange pylon here. I look around but there&#8217;s no work going on here, only this sign of work. Maybe it&#8217;s a sign that work needs to go on here. I look for the bump or the hole. But there&#8217;s nothing. Maybe it fell off a truck on its way [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
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		<title>Uncle</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/uncle/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/uncle/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 02 Feb 2010 03:14:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/11/uncle/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky For all his bluster there was a sweetness of surrender about him that rose up like a shrug when he rested from being right the way the bulldozers and backhoes at a construction site at dinnertime are all finally perfectly still the tines of their buckets pointing upward from the ground Blogged [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>October</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/october/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/october/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 12 Oct 2009 05:52:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1005</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky Everybody called him Toby, though his real name was October, though nobody knew that except the teacher who assured him his secret was safe with her that first day in September, when he came in early, before any of the other kids and introduced himself to her, and told her about his [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Luxembourg</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/luxembourg/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/luxembourg/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 19 Sep 2009 05:55:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1006</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky My best friend Rich Luxembourg had three older brothers, Norman, Jack, and Maury. They all sat in the backseat of the family station wagon together like Germany, France, and Belgium surrounding the little duchy of Luxembourg, tickling him, elbowing him, squeezing him until he laughed and wept with happiness while I looked [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Unseemly Plum</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/unseemly-plum/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/unseemly-plum/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Aug 2009 04:45:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1023</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky The blind boy likes to rock and flail. And he looks like a little blind boy&#8217;s imitation of a flightless bird getting ready for takeoff. It feels good to him, all this energy he can&#8217;t get out through his eyes, being deflected into this dance, this genuflecting deliciously at his desk. It [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/unseemly-plum/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Solitary Reaper</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/solitary-reaper/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/solitary-reaper/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 18 Jul 2009 04:42:26 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1021</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky I am writing on the bathroom wall at the summer writers&#8217; conference where all of the poets are sitting around in their little tranquil groups circle jerking in my imagination: the blue- haired lady with her notebook spilling in her lap, the English teacher with his muscular sensibility, the diffident housewife, musty [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Shoe Poem</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/shoe-poem/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/shoe-poem/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 25 Jun 2009 04:10:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1020</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky I love a good shoe poem so I go to the shoe store to find the name of that metal thing they measure your foot with. Now this is a good shoe, says Murray the shoe salesman, wearing a name tag and a tie, and holding up a shoe. I don&#8217;t want [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Temple</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/temple/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/temple/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 12 May 2009 04:04:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1018</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky The peace of God is a piece of cake. Heaven is here. Heaven is now. God&#8217;s temple is a relationship. It&#8217;s any relationship. It&#8217;s every relationship. Hey, look around&#8211; the world is full of temples. Join one. Join them all. Join. Join. Join. Joy. Joy. Joy. The joy of God is a [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/temple/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Paul Hostovsky &#8211; Selected Readings</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/paul-hostovsky-readings/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/paul-hostovsky-readings/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 17:29:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Features]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=872</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky has been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, and The Writer&#8217;s Almanac. His poems have won a Pushcart Prize, the Muriel Craft Bailey Award from The Comstock Review, and chapbook contests from Grayson Books, Riverstone Press, and The Frank Cat Press. His first full-length collection, &#8220;Bending the Notes,&#8221; is forthcoming from Main Street [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
<enclosure url="http://shortpoem.org/wp-content/2008/08/paul_hostovsky.mp3" length="1227083" type="audio/mpeg" />
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		<title>The Way Out</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/the-way-out/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/the-way-out/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 23 Apr 2009 17:05:41 +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>Revision</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/revision/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/revision/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 03 Mar 2009 03:19:08 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=675</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky There used to be a live chicken in this poem, there was a glacier and a sailboat, the Pacific Ocean sloshing between stanzas, and me like Adam saying, Here am I, to God who was also near. Originally posted 2008-10-08 07:48:36.]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Fold this poem in half</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/fold-this-poem-in-half/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/fold-this-poem-in-half/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 25 Feb 2009 05:39:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/05/fold-this-poem-in-half/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky Fold this poem in half now fold it in half again, and again. Notice how, if you did it right, it fits on an eighth of the page, the way the moon fits in the back-seat window of the car traveling through the night, the road unfolding like a story from childhood, [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
<enclosure url="http://shortpoem.org/wp-content/2009/02/Fold-This-Poem-In-Half.mp3" length="68479" type="audio/mpeg" />
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Workshop with Stephen Dunn</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/workshop-with-stephen-dunn/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/workshop-with-stephen-dunn/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 03 Jan 2009 04:56:51 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=895</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky At first I mistook the Parkinson&#8217;s for exuberance for the poems, the tremor in his hand resting on his leg making the leg softly jackhammer under the table like the leg of a schoolboy dying to raise his hand or dying to escape outside into the field across the street, and because [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Painless Poem</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/painless-poem/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/painless-poem/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 23 Aug 2008 00:15:53 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/08/painless-poem/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky Remember this poem? Its simple rooms? Its window full of trees? The white gable which you loved about this poem, how its lone triangle seemed to encompass all humanity? And the spiky yellow sun exploding somewhere outside this poem? Of course you do. In fact you&#8217;re reciting it right now, standing on [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/painless-poem/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>4</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Houses You See from the Highway</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/houses-from-the-highway/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/houses-from-the-highway/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 26 Jul 2008 21:52:13 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=220</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky It&#8217;s easy to love them, the shapes of those lives, the little huddled triangles holding each other up on the way into the city, or the ones in the country leaning only on themselves and a silo, head in an elbow on a hill. How beautiful the detached view, how forgivable all [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
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