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	<title>ULTRA VIOLET &#187; poem</title>
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		<title>The weight of silence</title>
		<link>http://ultraviolet.in/2010/08/26/the-weight-of-silence/</link>
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		<pubDate>Thu, 26 Aug 2010 06:44:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Divya Rajan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry & Creative]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[divya rajan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[juarez chihuahua]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Your scarf spoke nine tongues. I failed to know the purpose, seek the language of splinters, shards, lazy salsas. I thought the skies bowed to you even as they turned mauve. Awe filled my lungs, I breathed. Shards slow danced, I felt your smile. It smelt of something else. Your ducking shadows traded with liquid [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Two Poems</title>
		<link>http://ultraviolet.in/2010/01/19/two-poems/</link>
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		<pubDate>Tue, 19 Jan 2010 17:11:22 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Janice Pariat</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry & Creative]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bertha mason]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[janice pariat]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sylvia plath]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Bertha &#38; I Tonight I feel like Bertha Mason with a fire and sadness in my soul. I pace my room – this attic of madness – it keeps me sane. I think it keeps me whole, somehow. There’s no breeze through the window, just an empty vastness of night and shadow and half-lights. And [...]]]></description>
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		<title>They must’ve known my grandparents</title>
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		<pubDate>Fri, 28 Aug 2009 05:20:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Divya Rajan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Work & Economy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pages]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[I drive by narrow lanes called eda in colloquial malayalam, the walls hoarded with large posters of Mohanlal and some teenager heroine (who won the National Award for Best Actress, I&#8217;m told, for carrying on precariously well as a mother of an eighteen year old, when she herself had but known eighteen mango- textured summers) [...]]]></description>
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		<title>How to Eat A Wolf</title>
		<link>http://ultraviolet.in/2007/11/20/how-to-eat-a-wolf/</link>
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		<pubDate>Tue, 20 Nov 2007 08:55:18 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Sharanya Manivannan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lust]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pages]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sharanya manivannan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[woman]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Does all lust start and end like this? Don&#8217;t get me wrong. I loved my wolf. I held him tethered like a pussycat. I nursed the rumble in his belly with hands gentle as a burglar&#8217;s. He lived on milk and blood and ocean. He had violets for his furs. It&#8217;s just that he was [...]]]></description>
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