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		<title>Miranda Arocho | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/mirandarocho</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Miranda Arocho</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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			<title>Hands</title>
			<description>Revealed self.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mirandarocho/502905/</link>
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			<title>Piano World</title>
			<description>From which our dogma dies.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mirandarocho/502903/</link>
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			<title>Plastic</title>
			<description>Believe it, because it's true.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mirandarocho/502901/</link>
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			<title>Hospital Food</title>
			<description>It's gross.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mirandarocho/502899/</link>
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			<title>Neruda&amp;rsquo;s Dreamers</title>
			<description>Sincere love poem.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mirandarocho/502898/</link>
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			<title>Starts with a &amp;lsquo;W&amp;rsquo;</title>
			<description>Something vile yet poetic.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mirandarocho/502897/</link>
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			<title>Some Guy</title>
			<description>Some guy at the bookstore</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mirandarocho/502894/</link>
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			<title>What Is Real? 1st Chorus</title>
			<description>What is reality?</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mirandarocho/502892/</link>
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			<title>Friday Night</title>
			<description>When a man lightly runs his fingers over sprinkled anticipationStrewn warmth on the freckles of one&amp;rsquo;s emotionLonging for contact, his heart might jar in fascinationThe moisture his cerebral high expectsWhether delicate or voluminous and aggressive,He wants to have sexSex enlightens himYet sham..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mirandarocho/502891/</link>
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			<title>Giants</title>
			<description>This isn't propaganda or even theory. Just thoughts that rhyme.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mirandarocho/502886/</link>
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