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		<title>Kyle SP | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/KyleSP</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Kyle SP</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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			<title>Strange Dream Poem #1</title>
			<description>StrangeDream Poem #1&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;1.Andthen, I fell asleep.And youwere beside me again. And wecame to the edge of the wood, Andslept under stone. Yourskirt split; a plane flew by.I lookedup at the sky, But sawonly white faces.&amp;nbsp;2...</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/KyleSP/1097597/</link>
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			<title>Cellphone Poems</title>
			<description>PactPact. Stone. Shade. Brood.&amp;nbsp;Youth. Inane. Hope. Betray.Friend. Would. Break. Arrive.&amp;nbsp;Blood. Tree. Wait. Decide.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;AmorphWaste. Amorph. Ground. Height.Trial. Deface. Eye. Await.Deceive. Face.&amp;nbsp;Banish. Denote.Seduce. Meme. Stare. Another.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/KyleSP/1071827/</link>
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			<title>W19</title>
			<description>One window to hang the hope.Two windows to taste the floor.&amp;nbsp;Three windows to drag the dream.Four windows to lose your way.Five windows to stay afloat.&amp;nbsp;Six windows to weigh the truth.Seven windows to sink the burn.Eight windows to feel the same.Nine windows to stalk the girl.Ten windows to ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/KyleSP/1071501/</link>
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			<title>The Thing From the Ocean</title>
			<description>The thing from the ocean rose and towered above. Its face was insanity. I backed away from the water, and he swallowed me down. I swam and swam; a wet darkness; a circus of teeth. I heard a distant calling; shouts from my relatives. It was an illusionary display - they were the wall. Lights were eve..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/KyleSP/1071208/</link>
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			<title>Paragraphicals</title>
			<description>NostalgiaWhat you say is a world. My years, seen through the cloudy eyes of youth. Of large rooms, deep and dim - stained with windows. Of railways of dreams flying low over the bypasses. The deaths of rosebushes that lie beneath the windowsills. Of neighbours' houses, seen through a dirty green win..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/KyleSP/1071197/</link>
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