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		<title>I Confess, I Digress | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/digression</link>
		<description>The original writings of author I Confess, I Digress</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>Panorama</title>
			<description>A tactile stop-frame edgedwith a metal rim of dream.The space distortion lens domeis a bio artist plagiarizing the sky.Every photograph I take is a lie:superimposed over each frameare fragmentary memories,liquid in time,catching dust in rivulets to drain asemotion mud and grime.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/794269/</link>
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			<title>Passing</title>
			<description>I begged the fence gate:plead, &quot;open, dear,to the sun out thereto the eyes of Susan flowersto the nacreous grass stemsbright with autumns sheenand trails traversing hoursignoble to their too obsceneteeming streampulling at the summer's green,stringing out our fecund dreamsto crack and freeze with wi..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/794267/</link>
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			<title>Synesthesia II</title>
			<description>It is paper cut-outstrees dripping evergreen spikes of sullen waitingin the silencelights more concrete than the pressure of walking.I feel it intermittently:&amp;nbsp; a lighthouse beacon illuminating theslightest wave crestseeming as eternity.&amp;nbsp;my consciousness in a..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/780707/</link>
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			<title>untitled</title>
			<description>I lie to the vulnerable coast of the Styxput the coin in my mouth and I will traversenowhere into nothing into Hadeswhere time is stalled at1994 watching the numbers trace imaginary moneyacross screens ran bywallets of the people that clearlydon&amp;rsquo;t give a damnand w..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/776353/</link>
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			<title>Vision</title>
			<description>This breaks all--My lines cease resting upon the horizon,gossamer paint dripping down my lens domewhich pretends vision equates to reality.Words calmly narrate simplicitygiving voice to subtletiesand recalling back to mind yesteryearswhen our selves were entirely different colors,different motions,d..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/768163/</link>
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			<title>Asphalt</title>
			<description>this ripple heat disorientswhite lines smudged black tar oozerubbing eyes glueddowntown I stretch forty stories of sun-glared skyrisemy surface illusory and time losingand metal sullied by all those greedy eyesdivided to humanityone sees compassion: brow raised,..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/764475/</link>
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			<title>Copies of Copies</title>
			<description>This is actually more like a narrative essay expounding some thoughts on the end result of human consciousness and the true value of nature.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/763601/</link>
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			<title>Green Light Across the Bay</title>
			<description>I will not dilute youwith allusions to places, stories, songskerouac did not meet a man like your wonder hitching across American dreamelliott smith would not find forlorn broken to sing you out through scornyour cheeks are neither high as cliffs as dry, cracked Nevadanor failure gritty ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/763276/</link>
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			<title>I Digress</title>
			<description>Warning:  Mature Content</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/762360/</link>
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			<title>It is Through Sin that One Gains the First Glimpse of Salvation</title>
			<description>Title is a quote from Either/Or by Kierkegaard.  </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/762354/</link>
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			<title>Everything</title>
			<description>this spins cyclical velocity those blurred colors of clay people against the wall.there are only walls.these thoughts stick liquor fluid in the sky on my face it is dry as a desertpeeling back 8 fold layers you saw through.my looking glassthe past.I don&amp;rsquo;t even know myself.  I am so..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/762351/</link>
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			<title>Insomnia</title>
			<description>I will trace my skin luminescent outlines in words,bury myself in verbosity.Staple image after image of histrionic expressionsprovided all the necessaryjustifications for speech-easy speech-only cruelty.My philosophyface pieced tomorrowspast cut up quarters into quarters intothis i..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/762349/</link>
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			<title>Sartre -- An Early Response to Nausea</title>
			<description>I am reading Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre at the moment (along with many other novels). Unfortunately, I can empathize far too much with the protagonist. This is my experience of the existential plight.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/digression/762347/</link>
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