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<channel>
	<title>For the Sake of Sounding</title>
	<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/section-225-for-the-sake-of-sounding</link>
	<description></description>
	<language>en</language>
	<copyright>2005-2012</copyright>
	<managingEditor>shakespearesmonekys@gmail.com</managingEditor>
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	<ttl>70</ttl>

 <item>
		<title>explaining nostalgia</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12493-explaining-nostalgia</link>
		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12493-explaining-nostalgia</guid>
		<description> No. It isn't the thinness of my recollection.

It's the stale odor of alcohol on my breath 

and something delicate-

something pink; the peonies that have since bloomed, 

discarding their petals with no memory of us.

I hate them. 
 I hate that my skin has no integrity.

I've become handmaid to it's betrayal-

tactility the grandest of lies. 
 My eyes are sorely bound to our passing;

an industry of stone-

a polished reminder of my own insignificance.

Longing assembles.

Blistering like braille on my abdomen;

I am firebrand. 
 Burning;

and remarkably untouched.  ... more  </description>
		<dc:creator> Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>Hopefully Apathetic</category>
		<pubDate>Thu, 22 Jul 2010 04:09:23 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-228-hopefully-apathetic#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12493</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>because i can't make an omelet</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12491-because-i-can-t-make-an-omelet</link>
		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12491-because-i-can-t-make-an-omelet</guid>
		<description> I collect only male lovers.

They feel more certain, 

and punctuated: 

against my skin.



I know his leaving,

and I pour myself 

another cup of coffee,

let the gnaw in my belly

remain in the messied

sheets where I fucked him

when all I really wanted 

from him was breakfast

and light conversation

in the morning before

he forgot my name. </description>
		<dc:creator> Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>Sometimes...it just is</category>
		<pubDate>Tue, 20 Jul 2010 03:55:25 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-531-sometimes-.it-just-is#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12491</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>Speaking for things unspoken</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12490-speaking-for-things-unspoken</link>
		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12490-speaking-for-things-unspoken</guid>
		<description>the inadequacies of words</description>
		<dc:creator> Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>Sometimes...it just is</category>
		<pubDate>Tue, 20 Jul 2010 03:52:51 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-531-sometimes-.it-just-is#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12490</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>to make healing more bearable</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12341-to-make-healing-more-bearable</link>
		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12341-to-make-healing-more-bearable</guid>
		<description>&quot;In holding together and clutching
we imagined ourselves to be whole&quot;
-Dee Rimbaud</description>
		<dc:creator> Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>Hopefully Apathetic</category>
		<pubDate>Fri, 26 Feb 2010 06:50:25 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-228-hopefully-apathetic#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12341</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>of orange blossoms and death</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12340-of-orange-blossoms-and-death</link>
		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12340-of-orange-blossoms-and-death</guid>
		<description> Mother has gone to a funeral,

though not her own.

I pray for  swarms of bees, thousands

of incessant wings drumming

to mute the  sound of her suffering.

Their stingers bloody her fingers

as a  needle would a dressmaker's,

too haughty for a thimble.



They've  built hives on her tongue.

She is all mouth; infinite swarm, 

and I  in my flower print dress

she made for me,

her blood still on my  cuff. </description>
		<dc:creator> Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>Hopefully Apathetic</category>
		<pubDate>Fri, 26 Feb 2010 06:48:15 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-228-hopefully-apathetic#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12340</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>Explaining displacement</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12027-explaining-displacement</link>
		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12027-explaining-displacement</guid>
		<description> 










I came without you last night;

two fingers curled like parentheses between my thighs where I left you. 

&amp;amp; autumn became just as fleeting. I

remember red as if it were currency;

borrowed from womanhood and the kiss that claimed us one.



I remember how you fed me oranges

&amp;amp; I tongued the seeds while my fingers played in your hair. I

crawled inside your analogy and made love to you as if I were an eggshell;

small and brittle, unable to stand the concrete weight of your hands.



I raise the hem of my skirt;

my womb has gone back to war beneath ripe cotton. I

try to draw a line between us

&amp;amp; peel back the blisters of what you left inside of me;

the colour of a thousand tight throated blossoms when it bleeds.



I bought oranges today

&amp;amp; picked dandelions to place on my breasts where your skin still covers me. I

smell of sandalwood and citrus-

I snuff out my cigarette in the fruits flesh and gnaw on the rind.







   ... more  </description>
		<dc:creator> Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>Sometimes...it just is</category>
		<pubDate>Mon, 28 Dec 2009 00:41:21 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-531-sometimes-.it-just-is#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>5</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12027</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>because there are no answers</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-11976-because-there-are-no-answers</link>
		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-11976-because-there-are-no-answers</guid>
		<description> I've worn these suicides as bangles 

on thin wrists



and I cannot recall spring; 

fierce with birth-    



-fierce with unending



I am beaten to the soil

where my tongue is too afraid to venture



into the soft stray of a kiss;

sweet and earthy 

              punctuated



I ache for tulips or anything windswept;

certain of it's growth-



-and death. </description>
		<dc:creator> Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>Sometimes...it just is</category>
		<pubDate>Fri, 02 Oct 2009 23:25:28 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-531-sometimes-.it-just-is#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/11976</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>The language of leaving</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-3877-the-language-of-leaving</link>
		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-3877-the-language-of-leaving</guid>
		<description> but I didn’t mention
that I fell in love with you
somewhere in between
those sheets
and your smile 
 I laced myself upon your
familiar lips
hoping I would somehow
become part of their
dialect 
 but my name became
nothing more than
the morning breath
you sterilize and
rinse away
 </description>
		<dc:creator>Somday In May</dc:creator>
		<category>But April brought rain</category>
		<pubDate>Thu, 09 Jul 2009 07:37:10 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-227-but-april-brought-rain#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>6</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/3877</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>Untitled</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-4543-untitled</link>
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		<description> I pull my perfectly browned

crispy yet soft bagel

from the toaster. 
 I rumage through the fridge

deciding between cream cheese

and butter, 

jelly or

sweet preserves. 
 Today, I am only brave enough

to eat it plain. </description>
		<dc:creator>Someday In May</dc:creator>
		<category>May 2007</category>
		<pubDate>Tue, 23 Jun 2009 16:41:48 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-277#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/4543</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>The last place I looked</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-3818-the-last-place-i-looked</link>
		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-3818-the-last-place-i-looked</guid>
		<description> He used to leave 
little yellow post-it's
before he left for work. 
 Always in places 
he knew I would find them. 
 The scribbled hello's
never seemed heartfelt 
 until he stopped sending them. </description>
		<dc:creator>Somday In May</dc:creator>
		<category>But April brought rain</category>
		<pubDate>Sat, 20 Jun 2009 22:34:32 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-227-but-april-brought-rain#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>3</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/3818</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>missing the point</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-7947-missing-the-point</link>
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		<description>with grocery bags weightedby canned lima beans and chocolate ice cream, i pause

to admire how clearthe sky is tonight, the moon full with obligationto the nocturnalsand turning tides.

i can't recall a night so clearor stars more obediant.

i call you out to see,going on about perfectionand joy in a rare moment.

you gently remind me ofthe melting ice cream,urging me into the housewhile rattling off the namesof half a dozen constellations</description>
		<dc:creator>Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>Sometimes...it just is</category>
		<pubDate>Sat, 20 Jun 2009 04:09:37 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-531-sometimes-.it-just-is#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>5</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/7947</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>Dirty laundry is easier to swallow with Chardonnay</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-3734-dirty-laundry-is-easier-to-swallow-with-chardonnay</link>
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		<description> and I can't go there,
not again.
It's so fucking cold there.
I'll regret nothing,
and everything.
But I will carry this
knowledge
of avoidance in
my left hip pocket
with the lint 
the dryer left from
your old t-shirt. 
   </description>
		<dc:creator>Somday In May</dc:creator>
		<category>But April brought rain</category>
		<pubDate>Sat, 20 Jun 2009 04:07:26 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-227-but-april-brought-rain#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/3734</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>I loved you again after coffee</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-3816-i-loved-you-again-after-coffee</link>
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		<description> 6 am
the sudden startle 
of morning sounds
itself in the static
of the alarm      my legs give pause
before sliding over the side
not in dread, but
reluctant to depart
the pitch of yours

I fumble in the kitchen
over last night's leftovers
and todays duties
hoping for Columbian roast   I pull my robe a little tighter
chilled in the absence
of last night
of us   We were something holy
I held my breath     </description>
		<dc:creator>Somday In May</dc:creator>
		<category>But April brought rain</category>
		<pubDate>Sat, 20 Jun 2009 04:06:09 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-227-but-april-brought-rain#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>3</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/3816</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>clarity</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-11492-clarity</link>
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		<description>you know</description>
		<dc:creator> Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>Sometimes...it just is</category>
		<pubDate>Tue, 02 Jun 2009 11:13:27 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-531-sometimes-.it-just-is#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>3</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/11492</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>absence is persistent</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-11466-absence-is-persistent</link>
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		<description> i.

i am tempted

by the momentum of hands

and the possibilites fingers hold

when pressed lightly 

on heavy shoulders



because &quot;alone&quot; 

has teeth these days



ii.

i haven't written in months

and i need to wage a war

against logic

against the cruelty of 



puncuation  



because somehow i can breath

in the freedom of a run on sentance

 

iii.

i will not write of tears

memory or half empty beds at 

two thirty a.m.



because realization feels 

too much like an epilouge 



and i haven't the language



iv.

it should have been smaller

the moment where weakness became

another word for fucking just

for promise of heat



and that truth will 

leave a mark



v.

i am jealous

of writers whos words 

never betray them



mine have gutted me

because absence is persistent 



and i struggle to find a single

harsh word to cut you

deep enough 

   ... more  </description>
		<dc:creator> Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>But April brought rain</category>
		<pubDate>Fri, 29 May 2009 15:33:44 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-227-but-april-brought-rain#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/11466</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>In passing</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5427-in-passing</link>
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		<description>He has changed meto the fondness of him

I have his handsat midnightcrouched in the whisperthat betrays my voice

He grits his teethagainst the boneI borrowed of him

holding my eyesin the burden of lightwhere intrusive shadows dream aloud</description>
		<dc:creator>Someday In May</dc:creator>
		<category>But April brought rain</category>
		<pubDate>Fri, 29 May 2009 04:55:17 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-227-but-april-brought-rain#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>Spring just brings longer days</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-3878-spring-just-brings-longer-days</link>
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		<description>I found a bit of winterthat had been left behindin the shades of greyand peeling paint ofmy upstairs window sill.

It's husky whisper wasmuted by the buzzingof spring's haughty arrivalwith lengthening of days,and rain.

I wept under my breathfor winter's resignation

and this bitternessit left behind</description>
		<dc:creator>Somday In May</dc:creator>
		<category>But April brought rain</category>
		<pubDate>Fri, 29 May 2009 04:49:01 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-227-but-april-brought-rain#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/3878</wfw:comment>
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	</item>

 <item>
		<title>Her</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-7894-her</link>
		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-7894-her</guid>
		<description> I did love her.

Though I never distanced myself

far enough to utter it aloud.



I watched her 

ready herself to delight the boys.

She was a venture they all

rallied themselves around 

awkward and hard for her

rejection.



In her stillness,

we talked of miseries, dreams.

I brushed her hair out of tangle 

and expectation so again

she could laze in shades that

perhaps I had placed her in.



She was everything 

sun-soaked and delicate

that I longed to comprehend.

There was no perfection about her

but her smile was a sermon

  
 and I prayed for every breath.  ... more  </description>
		<dc:creator>Amanda Baker</dc:creator>
		<category>Sometimes...it just is</category>
		<pubDate>Fri, 29 May 2009 04:45:58 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-531-sometimes-.it-just-is#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>12</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/7894</wfw:comment>
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 <item>
		<title>For the Sake of Sounding</title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-4183-for-the-sake-of-sounding</link>
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		<description> I shed my clothes.

Free of the strings

that tangle me to the tide.

I stand,

rooted as the pines,

reckoned to charred

stillness. 
 There is no rain today. 
 No rain,

No wind,

Nothing

to calm this raging skin.

Even the rivers

have renounced their

translation. 
 I kneel,

amongst the silt.

Once yielding comfort,

now nothing more 

than muted

debris.

Unsettled in these

restraints 
 I throw stones,

for the sake of sounding. 
   
   
   
   </description>
		<dc:creator>Somday In May</dc:creator>
		<category>Hopefully Apathetic</category>
		<pubDate>Wed, 27 May 2009 16:45:48 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-228-hopefully-apathetic#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>5</slash:comments>
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 <item>
		<title>The duty of roses </title>
		<link>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5360-the-duty-of-roses</link>
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		<description> 
When laid heavily
roses perform savagery
on the lips of orchids.

Snarled against thorn
     and thought.

Onerous breath brought
by love’s retreat
pulls petal from stem.

Beauty remembers
when hands held roses
who knew nothing 
     of death.

When love was a sonnet 
whispered gently  through hopeful tuned ears.
 </description>
		<dc:creator>Someday In May</dc:creator>
		<category>But April brought rain</category>
		<pubDate>Wed, 27 May 2009 15:52:41 GMT</pubDate>
		<comments>/section-227-but-april-brought-rain#comments</comments>
		<slash:comments>5</slash:comments>
		<wfw:comment>https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/5360</wfw:comment>
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