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		<title>Gordon Purkis | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/dirtyp</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Gordon Purkis</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>Tiny bits of hell</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;I&amp;rsquo;m riddled with tiny bitsof helllike sidewalk graffitisacred and profanemessages like TITSand SATAN WAS HEREbe/cuz&amp;nbsp;hurt is a place you returnto when you think about thethings she said&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dirtyp/390835/</link>
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			<title>The yesterday </title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;I don&amp;rsquo;t know how to tellyou this so I&amp;rsquo;m just goingto say it: no, we didn&amp;rsquo;treally survive the past.Rather we died on nightsalone in our beds with ourown thoughts, totally aloneexcept for their persistentgrief, a friend if not an enemy.&amp;nbsp;I mean, you aw..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dirtyp/389042/</link>
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			<title>Presence/Absence</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;I&amp;rsquo;d like just once to makelove and not have youwatching me&amp;nbsp;Like to make love withoutthe thought of possessingor not possessing you&amp;nbsp;Make love in the morningwith the birdsong throughan open window&amp;nbsp;that&amp;nbsp;opens to a big brightworld without you i..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dirtyp/376312/</link>
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			<title>Bare</title>
			<description>This is one of those ones where you dance all around what you want to say but alas there are no words...</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dirtyp/373437/</link>
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			<title>Water washes slowly over the dying man</title>
			<description>Is now any different than alwaysor forever?&amp;nbsp;Isn&amp;rsquo;t worry basically sayingyou&amp;rsquo;re concerned about everything?As if the world owed you someconsentor concession for walking uprightand talking forthrightly.&amp;nbsp;Sometimes you can be bathedin the blue light of sadness..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dirtyp/373050/</link>
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			<title>Burning day</title>
			<description>Folks with timeto burntree limbs andbrush to burn&amp;nbsp;A grayhorse blanketkind of day&amp;nbsp;To all appearancescold,yet life still burns,a memorya song&amp;nbsp;her green eyes with their soft light</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dirtyp/373049/</link>
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