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	<title>thunderkick.us &#187; MyPoetry</title>
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	<description>Design, Arts, Life: The Blog of an Interactive Designer</description>
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		<title>hospice</title>
		<link>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2005/10/11/hospice</link>
		<comments>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2005/10/11/hospice#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 11 Oct 2005 19:46:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>systim</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Art]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[MyPoetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://thunderkick.us/blog/?p=423</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I watch the rise and fall of her chest the pulse in her neck to see when I should cry and push the button. When we&#8217;ll turn off the hum of the oxygen When we&#8217;ll leave this room too cold and too hot get up from couches put our newspapers away and retire other distractions [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Return To Florida</title>
		<link>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2005/10/10/return-to-florida</link>
		<comments>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2005/10/10/return-to-florida#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 10 Oct 2005 19:29:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>systim</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[MyPoetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[You have a smile like sunshine bright and warm and everyday even through hell of machines and radiation and chemicals which made your skin ache and muscles turn to pumice. And I&#8217;ll miss it your smile like I&#8217;d miss the sun or air and breathing or the moment of waking where we move from sleepland [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Return</title>
		<link>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2005/10/02/return</link>
		<comments>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2005/10/02/return#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 02 Oct 2005 19:28:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>systim</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[MyPoetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://thunderkick.us/blog/?p=392</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It&#8217;s cold back here in Seattle. &#160;&#160; Back from the Florida heat and parking garages. It&#8217;s a different cold than the hospital we inhabited. You can smell smoke from the chimnys and fireplaces, grass wet with rain and too long from a week&#8217;s neglect. We returned to mail and a messy sink; cats needing attention; [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Falling</title>
		<link>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2004/06/02/falling</link>
		<comments>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2004/06/02/falling#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 02 Jun 2004 22:30:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>systim</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://thunderkick.us/blog/2004/06/02/falling</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[She&#8217;d sing Teddy Bear&#8217;s Picnic to me during the 2 am wakings pretending to fall out of my bed so I wouldn&#8217;t have to be alone in the second story yellow room with the window I would fall out of every night in my dreams. I&#8217;d fall to hit the floor more stable than cold [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Future Lost In Their Labyrinths</title>
		<link>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2003/07/02/future-lost-in-their-labyrinths</link>
		<comments>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2003/07/02/future-lost-in-their-labyrinths#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 02 Jul 2003 22:32:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>systim</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[One cannot hold onto old winters the snow has already fallen the grass already turned to a faded brown the leaves a season before had begun to fall over our shod feet and dark green sweaters which covered our hidden heart the rain had already come down in puddles outside our windows and doors as [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Nightflares</title>
		<link>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2000/07/04/nightflares</link>
		<comments>http://thunderkick.us/blog/2000/07/04/nightflares#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 04 Jul 2000 17:45:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>systim</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[MyPoetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://thunderkick.us/blog/2000/07/04/nightflares</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Night flares again The veins in my hands warrant nails driven though. Even Christ was human and did he suffer with chaotic thoughts like mine? Would he have smoke his father&#8217;s cigarettes and stuffed his stomach full of bile, Would he have listened to jazz and have half-full glass of water and ash &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; spill [...]]]></description>
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		<title>In Her Picture</title>
		<link>http://thunderkick.us/blog/1999/11/02/in-her-picture</link>
		<comments>http://thunderkick.us/blog/1999/11/02/in-her-picture#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 02 Nov 1999 22:36:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>systim</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[MyPoetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[In her picture these years gone from swimming pools and houses dark I see the new millennium and the pass of time as beauty ripens as intellect and eyes darken with the sights of the world and French lovers left to tend the countryside. Together our footsteps collided and mingled with the brokenglass floors we [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>L&#8217;Age D&#8217;Etoiles</title>
		<link>http://thunderkick.us/blog/1998/10/02/lage-detoiles</link>
		<comments>http://thunderkick.us/blog/1998/10/02/lage-detoiles#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 02 Oct 1998 22:39:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>systim</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[MyPoetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://thunderkick.us/blog/1998/10/02/lage-detoiles</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[L’age d&#8217;etoiles est maintnaint she will say sitting crosslegged back against the wall and pressed to flannel summer sun on her cheeks through Florida December days coffesteam misty dreams spin foreheads height swimming in bluemorn wakings foresttrees and a geko You’ll remember that geko during the summer days of Seattle rain, and teary apartment smoke [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Greenleaf</title>
		<link>http://thunderkick.us/blog/1998/06/02/greenleaf</link>
		<comments>http://thunderkick.us/blog/1998/06/02/greenleaf#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 02 Jun 1998 22:32:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>systim</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[MyPoetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://thunderkick.us/blog/1998/06/02/greenleaf</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Greenleaf Arkansas night upstairs porches facing windy road highway scenic drive and lightningbug starksy Thursday morning Arkansas coffee steams weak though cigarette smoke and misty shower mirrorfog There’s a certain bliss at morning countryside quiet where all you can hear are the bugs and tractors and yellow flowers growing There’s a wooden sign below me [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Writing my history</title>
		<link>http://thunderkick.us/blog/1998/03/03/writing-my-history</link>
		<comments>http://thunderkick.us/blog/1998/03/03/writing-my-history#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 03 Mar 1998 23:43:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>systim</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[MyPoetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://thunderkick.us/blog/1998/03/03/writing-my-history</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I’m up late, writing my history but through it all, I’ve lived it all before, in another time, in memory of faces and places spoken of in long drunken tirades on Florida porches with a bottle of rum in hand two months after your demise. But then there it comes in a song heard over [...]]]></description>
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