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	<title>Tea &#38; Tunafish</title>
	<link>http://teaandtunafish.com</link>
	<description>Poetry, thoughts &#38; other junk.</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Mon, 23 Aug 2010 17:18:50 +0000</lastBuildDate>
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	<item>
		<title>[Excerpt]</title>
		<description><![CDATA[July 2-5, 2010
Star tail reflections swim across
my windshield and we are caught
under the same fishnet of universe.
]]></description>
		<link>http://teaandtunafish.com/?p=87</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>[On Rain]</title>
		<description><![CDATA[August 4-5, 2010
The sky lights up,
silver threads &#8211; her veins exposed.
The cold electric kindness of
a neon doughnut man illuminates
the chrome smeared pavement.
Glitter rains in the yellow glow
of aging street lamplight.
The ocean froths forth in
overflowing gutters.
Headlights mate with insect-crusted
porch light in the semi-darkness.
Reflected smoke masks their silhouettes.
]]></description>
		<link>http://teaandtunafish.com/?p=82</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>On Writer&#8217;s Block: an Essay</title>
		<description><![CDATA[I haven&#8217;t puked in over nine years. Understandably, most people would consider me fortunate, as vomiting is not usually regarded as an enjoyable activity. However, I am often plagued with a far more devastating condition than the stomach flu. Food poisoning is a sunny afternoon in the park in comparison to the despicable curse I [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://teaandtunafish.com/?p=80</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>[A Place]</title>
		<description><![CDATA[(June11-14, 2010)
A seafoam green chrysalis &#8211; this
place I&#8217;ve been allowed to grow.
Slices of light sticking
through the venetian slats &#8211;
illuminating contrast patterns
on the sofa &#8211; warming a
place for me to rest my
weariness. A concrete world
exists outside &#8211; twisted asphalt &#038; steel,
bones &#038; flesh, television &#038; chlorine.
But now the embrace of hotel
bed sheets &#8211; the fresh sticky [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://teaandtunafish.com/?p=77</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>[Balcony Trumpeteer]</title>
		<description><![CDATA[November 19-26, 2009
The trumpet player tips his horn
to let a thirsty listener lie
in pools of E minor meloncholy.
Molasses from a place above drips
down and down, congealing
in the silver space between.
A siren song of suffering sounds
inside a bony cage &#8211; reverberates
where bolder notes have failed.
Gabriel smiles.
]]></description>
		<link>http://teaandtunafish.com/?p=55</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>[Untitled]</title>
		<description><![CDATA[(February 3, 2009)
I
Second, I am a writer.
The ink in my veins doesn&#8217;t
die with passing moments-
only lays stagnant.
It waits for the well to come
swelling up, and flooding over-                                                                                                                         
it rests, stewing in a hidden place
and then the kettle hisses;
sharp streams of solid smoke-
steam vapor pouring forth from
cavernous rivers.                                                                                                                                                        Second, I am a writer.
II
Second I am a [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://teaandtunafish.com/?p=49</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>For Billy II (Dandelions)</title>
		<description><![CDATA[(December 11, 2008)
I never liked reading other poets
but for the dark ones-
I could suck my fingers
like a little kid
and lie in the dark
reading about bashed in brains
and cities in the sea
and I never wanted anyone to read me either
but when I finally let someone&#8230;
I didn&#8217;t write anything
for a long long time after that.
I sure didn&#8217;t [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://teaandtunafish.com/?p=45</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Coming Home on a Train</title>
		<description><![CDATA[(June 29th 2009)
The mountains go by-
and farms and carcasses of cattle,
haystacks and forests-
all disappear behind starched
cotton curtains in a flash of light.
I&#8217;m aching from travel
and hurting worse knowing
that so many hours still
separate me from home-
from being clean, from real
sleep, ripe with dreams-
from gentle kisses on the scalp.
I haven&#8217;t been homesick
since I was seven. And
since I [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://teaandtunafish.com/?p=42</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>[Untitled Haiku]</title>
		<description><![CDATA[(August 14, 2009)
Hate sleeping with dog.
Smells like dead things-I do though
because I love you.
]]></description>
		<link>http://teaandtunafish.com/?p=39</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Lovingly Entitled: &#8220;I Will Shoot You&#8221; (a poem for Samuel C. Colt)</title>
		<description><![CDATA[(August 8, 2009)
Companion to scrawny trouble-makers-
He makes trouble of his own
But cleans up very well
For an interview.
King of the soul siphoners-
He&#8217;s got secrets hidden in
Sandals that tell tales of the
Places he&#8217;s been.
Decendant of gun makers-
He shoots words like bullets,
Not the swiftest of weapons
But just as lethal.
]]></description>
		<link>http://teaandtunafish.com/?p=35</link>
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