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		<title>annie_novak | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/violet_novak</link>
		<description>The original writings of author annie_novak</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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			<title>A Blue Glass Bottle</title>
			<description>On an old school desk in a thrift storesits a dark blue glass bottle.Its neck is slender like a woman's and its body is gently rounded.The blue is so deep you can hardly see through the glass.Standing out of the bottle is a single scarlet rose.The petals look like they were painted with blood.As a c..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violet_novak/1026087/</link>
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			<title>Eulogy of Hope</title>
			<description>Street pigeons sing in somber disgraceAnd the saxophone cries 'til he's blue in the face.Blood of the city flows the blocks up and downWhile a heartbroken stranger dawns his thorn crownThe prostitute's skirt's hiked up to her kneeAs the men clench their fists in tormented decreeAnd the smoky rain po..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violet_novak/627766/</link>
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			<title>Neon Diner Lights</title>
			<description>Fall keeps the night aliveThrough a million city firefliesNeon diner lights&amp;nbsp;andStreetlamps under treesFoggy silhouettesOf curling branches' leavesCrystal air wraps 'round our bonesAnd freezes blood midstreamThis is now what I knowLeading to what will later be</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violet_novak/627747/</link>
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			<title>The Last Train Car to Richmond</title>
			<description>On the last train car to RichmondYou're the space that fills my headI catch your smile,Across the aisleThe lights flicker dirty redPassing city wastelandsCrumbling in rhymeThat orange moon,The lost balloonCries not to run this timeYour face does not stop hauntingThe backside of my brainA burning sta..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violet_novak/627744/</link>
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			<title>Sunday Morning</title>
			<description>Our breath fogs the windowIn wet morning lightI look up to black-violet clouds&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;clusters of woolBlanketing jigsaw brick buildingsOur room&amp;nbsp;dark and edged with silverSleeps deeply as we silently moveShimmering droplets&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;collect patterns across our skinYour eyes look downAnd el..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violet_novak/627696/</link>
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