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		<title>Mark Holmgren | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/markholmgren</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Mark Holmgren</description>
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			<title>You Never Know</title>
			<description>You never know what life will bring, where it will lead you, when it will leave you.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markholmgren/223017/</link>
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			<title>Warpage</title>
			<description>For F.B. Gower1Knuckling eyes, coughing up the rip blade's dusty spew,we have no clocks to watch, only our inner sense of when to rest. We slow down knowing how the noon whistle's shriek can frighten fingers from hands.&amp;nbsp;We break on over-turned crates out of the sun&amp;rsquo;s reach..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markholmgren/203926/</link>
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			<title>Music</title>
			<description>I was a small boy living in New York when my mother began to teach me how to sing. Her instruction was not about mastering my voice or becoming a prodigy. She played piano and taught me songs purely for the wonder of it.I know we did a few duets at the church, but I can&amp;rsquo;t remember doing that..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markholmgren/203914/</link>
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			<title>Adventure</title>
			<description>In my early teens, my parents and I would summer at our cabin on Leech Lake. The first boat we owned was a 12 foot fiberglass vessel with a 20 horse power West Bend motor. It flew on still water with only one person in it, which was usually me. At least it felt like it flew.One day my father and I..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markholmgren/203912/</link>
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			<title>My Fear Was Psycho/Logical</title>
			<description>which meant I was crazy scared to death which meantI knew you didn't think I knew what was going on.I was flat on my back trying to write off what my mind was reading: your eyes bright&amp;nbsp;-- &amp;nbsp;No! refulgent with expectationthat spared no light for me (and I heard you&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markholmgren/203382/</link>
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			<title>Exposure</title>
			<description>Like a squirrel with an acorn I work at you until you are forcedopen. Only,what I find I store away for a future harvest.No wonder you sit alone for hours and shake your head when I ask you why.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markholmgren/203375/</link>
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			<title>In the end there are no conclusions</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;for Phil and Anna&amp;nbsp;1&amp;nbsp;Sometimes we focus on what is missing,not denying what we do have but overpowered by the sadness of loss: the loss of what could be. We analyze history,search for clues,watersheds--anythingthat might explain today's circumstance,today..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markholmgren/66796/</link>
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			<title>Poem for Grandfather Carlson</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;1We count starsas if tabulation can explainthe darkness&amp;nbsp;We want to believea stonecutter's errorbrought us here&amp;nbsp;but to look is to seethe truthprecisely carved&amp;nbsp;2In this mist we feelwhat we cannot see&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; we fearwhat touches heart bone soul..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markholmgren/63391/</link>
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			<title>Poem for a Lucky Dog</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;I'm just sitting minding my ownwhen this blond dressed in five and dimeflashes her flash cube eyes and says wanna danceand I say why notWe do it to the Miraclesand then to the Supremesand then to the Temptationsbut then this Coniff crap comes onno beat&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; no heat&amp;nbs..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markholmgren/62378/</link>
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