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	<title>Anti- &#187; Lisa Ciccarello Poetry</title>
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		<title>At night, inside the house:</title>
		<link>http://anti-poetry.com/ciccarelloli1/</link>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 08 Jun 2009 20:56:11 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Steve</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Lisa Ciccarello Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[the bowls are the color of bone &#038; the bone is shaped like an egg. To make the bowl you must break the shell. 
My mouth is a bowl: shell &#038; yolk, egg cream, water glossed. I know the difference between full &#038; filled. 
This heart is a mouth. It only looks like heart. A [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>the bowls are the color of bone &#038; the bone is shaped like an egg. To make the bowl you must break the shell. </p>
<p>My mouth is a bowl: shell &#038; yolk, egg cream, water glossed. I know the difference between full &#038; filled. </p>
<p>This heart is a mouth. It only looks like heart. A heart is the color of cupcakes &#038; that color is many colored. </p>
<p>A candle makes a heart-heat. A candle gilds what shines. Put this light behind you. I see through the skin. </p>
<p>I&#8217;ll bring you the skin of a heart with a candle inside to break the bone like an egg. &#038; this pink shell of a mouth, mouthing the words.</p>
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		<title>At night, the perfect inside is outside:</title>
		<link>http://anti-poetry.com/ciccarelloli2/</link>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 08 Jun 2009 20:54:48 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Steve</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Lisa Ciccarello Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[We light the room by fire, by candle &#038; wood, we light the room by reflection, by mirror &#038; polish, we light the room by prayer &#038; drawing open the curtains. We light the room by huddle &#038; condense, by bringing together the bright &#038; silver, by widening our eyes. The light is always dim. [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>We light the room by fire, by candle &#038; wood, we light the room by reflection, by mirror &#038; polish, we light the room by prayer &#038; drawing open the curtains. We light the room by huddle &#038; condense, by bringing together the bright &#038; silver, by widening our eyes. The light is always dim. </p>
<p>&#038; also with song &#038; a joyful heart &#038; painting everything white &#038; getting down on our knees &#038; needing less &#038; going to sleep when we&#8217;re told &#038; when it should be time for sleep. </p>
<p>On, off. On, off. These are words we don&#8217;t yet know.</p>
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