<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Annalisa | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/annapicklelisa</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Annalisa</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776015430</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>In(n)</title>
			<description>In a complex metal box I steer not&amp;nbsp;the roads but my thoughts,&amp;nbsp;A conditioned cold stings my face&amp;nbsp;and my wet cheeks are blown dry.&amp;nbsp;Dry, I think I&amp;rsquo;ve becomeDryI diminish&amp;nbsp;and question too often.The how&amp;rsquo;s and the whys,&amp;nbsp;the banging on the door.My strangled, hid cr..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/annapicklelisa/1302684/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Hack</title>
			<description>The sour taste down my gullet&amp;nbsp;reflects the confusion thats mine, mylearning bod within are knots fromyour works so unkindTo me, when then, I hadn&amp;rsquo;t fully realizedthe shards you placed slyly in meof spite to fuel your gain for what you wished you could beYou tookI was easy, I had no fire t..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/annapicklelisa/1282801/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Pull</title>
			<description>Past dreams prod close, in a proud strut on the fencebetween then and the now, a cruel play, a sneer. &amp;nbsp;They say be a child, and a child I amI&amp;rsquo;m the beginning, in ignorance though feigned but still true.Bliss links hope to stride,curiosity&amp;nbsp;calls an excited step forward. But-reason is ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/annapicklelisa/1282799/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Box(ed)</title>
			<description>I sit in a paper box,&amp;nbsp;starkand straight up.&amp;nbsp;My body cackleswith my thoughts&amp;nbsp;and tall aspirations.Too many to stay still,&amp;nbsp;flames almost licking the lid above me.I have this paper box.It is lovingly folded&amp;nbsp;but unfortunately encasing.Written on it is who I am, to othersbecause ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/annapicklelisa/1282795/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Breath</title>
			<description>Your gentle hands dressed in affectiontenderly cups my cheeks,&amp;nbsp;Dark eyes telling me wonderous stories that&amp;nbsp;your inspired feelings have woven.&amp;nbsp;I am a child still, but now blessed with the depthfrom Love.&amp;nbsp;</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/annapicklelisa/1281821/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>