<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Jesse Harman | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/jharman2</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Jesse Harman</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776229034</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Plans in A Minor</title>
			<description>Iambic pentameter with limited substitutions in the spiritual/emotive mindset of &quot;What Sarah Said&quot; by Death Cab for Cutie.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jharman2/1722959/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Faded Linoleum </title>
			<description>Continuation</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jharman2/1698253/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Lightfields of Andorra</title>
			<description>Either I understand the world completely, or absolutely not at all. Not-so-linear shades of poetry masquerading as prose.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jharman2/1698250/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Upon Leaving Wyckoff</title>
			<description>O&amp;rsquo;erthe crestedhill hugged the favela. I couldn&amp;rsquo;t see the skyline. But I hear it&amp;rsquo;s lovely. Youinsisted. Grinding gears, flat tires. We ate at Bagel Emporium, at yoursuggestion. Soggy and yolky. Flat, pa..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jharman2/1688285/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Upon Leaving Port Huron</title>
			<description>A walk among the broken stalks				Are you alone nowOf wheat, seeds dusting				A lone standing branchWhitening your soles				A soul solitary, still</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jharman2/1678230/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Remember How The Old Moon Sang?</title>
			<description>The youngest of Angels remembered your nameAnd swore to uphold your sanctuary.Father Time still chased Mother EarthIn the vast reaches of her Garden.Eternity still echoed in your early ears,And the Galaxy was a lily pad in your pond.Brothers and Sisters and All In-Between hadYet to realize themselve..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jharman2/1678225/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>In Conversation with the Freshly Dreamed</title>
			<description>strands of white beneath a milky greymistaken streams for stems of wheaten wheynations aghast aplomb wicked clayskybound fungal noose-threaded dreamsgrip sandalwood handles at risk of liar&amp;rsquo;s sayrose oil blinding scent drips do..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jharman2/1677590/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Head Apollo</title>
			<description>Found poem in discussion with Philip K. Dick.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jharman2/1674320/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Interstellar</title>
			<description>I'd been reading a few ekphrastic poems, and after watching through the film Interstellar once or thirty times, I felt the need to take a crack at it. I reframed it in the style of a hero's journey.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jharman2/1674232/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>