<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>james miles | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/Randal</link>
		<description>The original writings of author james miles</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776017779</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Moep</title>
			<description>...it's always been this much with you, butYou left as always then returned as always.No...sorry not as those befores, rather yourEyes carry you now with something different.It's far off but I feel behind my eyes what I once understood as possible truths.And I have never been a believe..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Randal/1820154/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>breath</title>
			<description>this airmy emotionsthin as fine threadsmy heart stops...Hers is always thumpingI am snow cold she is the melting sunI am the water.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Randal/1544049/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>know</title>
			<description>i don't know much about this time of day maybe this time of day doesn't really exist at all although the morning is blue and white and bright yellow and the twisting breezes overturn the leaves to dark veins and a green so palethis now the smell of coffee maybe the evening sun is in the wind w..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Randal/1542756/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>rain</title>
			<description>sitting here listening to the first danceof the May rains...realizing only now that youare the only thingin this worldthat can hurt me </description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Randal/1541757/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>overnight</title>
			<description>...maybe time loved us she shares and wastes nothinglike a type of dark matter possibly hiding being's equation within us - simplistic?=&amp;nbsp;...so it's twelve o' eight in the a.m.and the loudest of silences is forgetting you as you lean back in bed on a pile of pillows andth..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Randal/1536872/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>