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	<title>Skippy2Punch</title>
	<link>http://skippy2punch.com</link>
	<description>The writing, art and music of Cris Nyne</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Wed, 12 May 2010 16:23:10 +0000</lastBuildDate>
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	<item>
		<title>push</title>
		<description><![CDATA[well, we can see the slope, see the slide you will ride down&#8230; what is your food, is it true, is it ok? wearing my thoughts on my sleeve pinning my face on a corpse that decays and will turn into flowers&#8230; flower seeds inside our flesh and when we die, all of these flowers [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://skippy2punch.com/2010/05/133/push/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>you in me</title>
		<description><![CDATA[you shouldn&#8217;t be in my head as much as you are but i gave you the key and said you are free to come and go as you please the door to my heart is wide open, the breeze ushers you into my arteries under my flesh in my blood and it smokes when the [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://skippy2punch.com/2010/05/130/you-in-me/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>no more ghost dance. no more dragon dance. avalanche.</title>
		<description><![CDATA[]]></description>
		<link>http://skippy2punch.com/2010/05/128/no-more-ghost-dance-no-more-dragon-dance-avalanche/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>we gods&#8230;</title>
		<description><![CDATA[mesmerized, magnatized magma flows below the lives for the dead, reborn, alive, or those dying inside. tides rise and tides leave me&#8230; to expose the dinosaur bones and the teepees. to release more smoke from the ocean and open the catacombs unveiling the bones, teeth, trinkets, and clothes to jesus, as mithra, as krishna, as [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://skippy2punch.com/2010/04/127/we-gods/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>(excerpt from private piece)</title>
		<description><![CDATA[&#8230;you are simply the bird nest and when the wind blows through your bones, the flowers will build her another one&#8230;]]></description>
		<link>http://skippy2punch.com/2010/04/126/excerpt-from-private-piece/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>my hero</title>
		<description><![CDATA[my hero, your ignorance keeps us in war and provides me with something to strive for. long stride-soar&#8230; the whisper&#8217;s a roar! truth breaks the skin of your eardrum the natives have banged before&#8230; you were forewarned well, i guess i might as well get on my unicorn, might as well head for the door&#8230; [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://skippy2punch.com/2010/04/125/my-hero/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>mother cerce</title>
		<description><![CDATA[the scent of a new moon Egyptian runes groomed sand dunes lost tombs bodies that must be exhumed disinter, decipher interwoven codes by the flame of my lighter the pain from the bite of the viper, it might be a cobra&#8230;. grab the gold from the earlobes and decode before the poison takes over&#8230; plugged [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://skippy2punch.com/2010/04/124/mother-cerce/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>the bakers are wolves</title>
		<description><![CDATA[the horse is made out of pixels, it pulsates through a field of bees kicking up dust from the moths the night before &#8230;hoofprints on the moon. she is a whole country on its back swirling with the strength of a million lovers. 5 hundred thousandthousandthousandthousandthousandthousandthousand unions lemon lavender twirled tongue punctures numbers -the ones [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://skippy2punch.com/2009/10/122/the-bakers-are-wolves/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>throwing out</title>
		<description><![CDATA[under the last palm tree on the moon, throwing up&#8230; more like throwing out. watching fake colors swirl out of my mouth. so gone. i am gone. gone. gone. gone. dead to the world that once knew me. blue cheese penicillin moon beams rumi. the poetry of rumi hopefully soon we meet again in the [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://skippy2punch.com/2009/10/120/throwing-out/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>your avalanche</title>
		<description><![CDATA[no words left. (all things are made out of words) no breath. &#8230;natives describe what they see, make your translation then give it to me &#8230;trying&#8230; i&#8217;ll pry at the sky to get free shaman and monster. shamonster. dalai lama and mao are the same -in which they both feel pain but display it in [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://skippy2punch.com/2009/10/118/your-avalanche/</link>
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