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	<title>RATTLE: Poetry for the 21st Century</title>
	<link>http://rattle.com/blog</link>
	<description>Poetry for everyone.</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Fri, 19 Mar 2010 12:00:34 +0000</lastBuildDate>
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	<language>en</language>
	
	<item>
		<title>&#8220;Dear Universe&#8221; by Wendy Videlock</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Wendy Videlock 
DEAR UNIVERSE,
In all this calm,
in all this mist,
these vague shaped
continents
begin to drift.
A finger lifts,
falls again.
A foghorn sounds,
passionless.
Do you wonder
what we are
in all this calm,
in all this mist.
Wolf prints.
Red clay.
A slender wrist.
Murder. Magic.
Ballet.
&#8211;from Rattle #31, Summer 2009
Possibly related:&#8220;Sonnets to Orpheus: Part 2 #13&#8243; by Rainer Maria Rilke&#8220;Dark Coats&#8221; by Trent Busch&#8220;Into the Fog&#8221; by [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://rattle.com/blog/2010/03/dear-universe-by-wendy-videlock/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>&#8220;Microcosm&#8221; by Jeff Vande Zande</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Jeff Vande Zande
MICROCOSM
She starts the engine, wanting
only the air conditioning.
He unloads their shopping cart
into the back and then slides
in against the scorching seat,
grips the wheel, and watches
her finger skim the receipt
until she finally announces
that the store didn’t charge
them for the table lamp.
They both turn around
as though to check a child
strapped into a booster.
It’s there. And, [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://rattle.com/blog/2010/03/microcosm-by-jeff-vande-zande/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>&#8220;Death of the Hired Hand, Hiawatha, Kansas&#8221; by Kate Sweeney</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Kate Sweeney
DEATH OF THE HIRED HAND, HIAWATHA, KANSAS
I loved his hands pulling that rattlesnake from the baler,
how the thing twitched slightly, as if shuddering in its sleep.
He fetched the shovel to grind off its head, that sick miracle
of jaw still opening and closing on the rusty spade.
I brought the body to grandmother who husked it [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://rattle.com/blog/2010/03/death-of-the-hired-hand-hiawatha-kansas-by-kate-sweeney/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>&#8220;Determing Who the Marchers Were&#8221; by Lee Stern</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Lee Stern

DETERMINING WHO THE MARCHERS WERE
It was my job to determine who the marchers were.
And how long they had practiced the different steps they were used to making.
I wouldn’t say that it was a hard job.
Only that when I grew tired of doing it,
nobody else volunteered to take my place.
As it was, the marchers recognized [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://rattle.com/blog/2010/03/determing-who-the-marchers-were-by-lee-stern/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>SIX LIPS by Penelope Scambly Schott</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Review by Claire Keyes 
SIX LIPS
by Penelope Scambly Schott
Mayapple Press, 2009
408 N. Lincoln Street
Bay City, MI  48708
ISBN 978-0-932412-84-3
2010, 80 pp.,  $15.95
www.mayapplepress.com
Six Lips is dazzling.  Were it for its language alone, I would savor these poems again and again if only to get some relief from the pedestrian gumbo of contemporary speech.  [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://rattle.com/blog/2010/03/lips-penelope-scambly-schott/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>&#8220;Early Night&#8221; by Alan Soldofsky</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Alan Soldofsky

EARLY NIGHT
In early December
&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; singing under the hedge
of verbena beside the porch.
What lies the sun tells
&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;of a few leaves stripped of their color,
parenthesis of rust on the hinges of the car door.
High wisps of clouds
&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;lit up by something
that has fallen.
The edge of a storm front
&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;faintly coming, a change in the smell
of the air, a [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://rattle.com/blog/2010/03/early-night-by-alan-soldofsky/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>&#8220;Poem in Search of a Horse&#8221; by Hayden Saunier</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Hayden Saunier
POEM IN SEARCH OF A HORSE
Time is not reading the poem as you
read the poem, but rest assured he’s slipped
inside the room in his soft, polished shoes,
with his little cough, his bowler hat in hand,
so sorry to disturb. It isn’t that he doesn’t like
to read, he loves to lean across your shoulder,
let you feel [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://rattle.com/blog/2010/03/poem-in-search-of-a-horse-by-hayden-saunier/</link>
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