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	<title>The Blue Pencil Online</title>
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	<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net</link>
	<description>Writing &#38; Publishing at Walnut Hill</description>
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		<title>Cairo Poems</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/archive/verse/cairo-poems/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/archive/verse/cairo-poems/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 04 Mar 2010 21:51:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Josh Calvo]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Verse]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=4971</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[ 
1.
We passed a blank billboard
On the drive to Cairo. An hour
Later we reached the city, watched
Sprawling brown buildings unravel
Like riverflow.
Everything had been made modest
By soda cans and color-faded wrappers.
Honks blared forth in the natural flute
Of existence: the cries of beggars,
Sighs of workers. Everything
Had been made quiet and sand-like,
Blank as billboards.

2.
A boy with his belt [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Josh Calvo</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/authors/josh-calvo/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/authors/josh-calvo/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 04 Mar 2010 21:51:23 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Bios]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=4983</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Josh Calvo is a member of the Class of 2011 at Hillel Yeshiva High School, in Ocean, New Jersey. He enjoys Frank O&#8217;Hara and African elephants. 
To see all work by this author in the Online Archive, click here.
]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Winners of The 2010 Bishop Prizes</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/bishop/2010-bishop-winners/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/bishop/2010-bishop-winners/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 28 Feb 2010 19:42:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Bishop]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=4764</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Winners of the 2010 Bishop Prizes
After reviewing nearly 500 submissions from all over the world, the editors of The Blue Pencil Online are proud to announce the winners of the 2010 Elizabeth Bishop Prizes!
The Bishop Prizes are held annually in recognition of Pulitzer Prize–winning poet Elizabeth Bishop, who was a member of the Walnut Hill [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Outhouses</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/outhouses/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/outhouses/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 13 Feb 2010 14:54:44 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Pencil Shavings]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=4741</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Out of the house, outside, in the yard—not on the rug.
[Evangeline Delgado, Bozeman, MT]


♦
 Genny smelled bile, but it was the only place Jacob wouldn&#8217;t find her; she could hear him still counting by the oak.
[Kimberly MacCormack, Dover, MA]

♦
He peeked inside the abyss, thinking of the newspaper he had found that morning telling of a [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Audition in 1955</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/archive/verse/audition-in-1955/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/archive/verse/audition-in-1955/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 29 Jan 2010 14:08:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Aliza Polkes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Verse]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=4648</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It’s dusty in the theater
And the air is thick,
So the lead apron
Hanging off her shoulders
Is slick against her skin
and sticky under her cotton dress.
Her music is crumpled,
A mess in her hand,
The notes sharp
Against her fingertips.
She catches her breath.
Her heart bellows a rough tune
Into her ribs,
And she dreams of home,
Of busted pianos,
Of splintered bridges, and him.
She [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Aliza Polkes</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/authors/aliza-polkes/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/authors/aliza-polkes/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 29 Jan 2010 14:07:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Bios]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=4657</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Aliza Polkes lives in Scarsdale, New York, and is a member of the Class of 2010 at Scarsdale High School. She has been writing since she learned to read. 
To see all work by this author in the Online Archive, click here.
]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Interpretations of Infinities</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/a-good-read/infinities/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/a-good-read/infinities/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 15 Jan 2010 20:53:34 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[A Good Read]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[A Good Read (Archive Listing)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kevin Hong]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=4641</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[.
Crepuscule
An elephant in its bathtub
and the three children sleeping
off the strange, strange tale
the tale of the sun sinking 
—Philippe Soupault (1897–1990)


.
Starry Night
In the late Nineteenth century
one is out painting landscapes
with spiralling sky
and helicopter lights approaching.

—Les Murray (1938– )
What brevity!  Can four lines of verse capture the essence of abstract things?  Soupault’s “Crepuscule” (my own translation, [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Blue Pencil Online</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/front-page/home-3/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/front-page/home-3/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 06 Jan 2010 18:17:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Front Page]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=4620</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
.
♦ Click for Winners of the 2010 Bishop Prizes! ♦  
 

  New Work:
 
new! “u wuld laiike / scarf? Cold Coca-Cola?”  [Verse by Josh Calvo]

     ...Little sickle, you are my new moon   [Pencil Shavings on "Outhouses"]

 What&#8217;s behind the golden curtains?  [Verse by Aliza [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Blue Pencil Online ~ Where High School Writers Publish</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/front-page/home-page-with-holiday-note/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/front-page/home-page-with-holiday-note/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 02 Jan 2010 23:04:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Front Page]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=4558</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
.
New Work:   
new! At night, the bed became a terrarium &#8230;  [Pencil Shavings on "Hotel Beds"]
new! The thrill of being wrong  [A Good Read by Laura Wanamaker]
  I press the solid force that is right now  [Verse by Laurel Durning-Hammond]
  Don&#8217;t touch that cat!  [Five Short Verses [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Hotel Beds</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/hotel-beds/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/hotel-beds/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 04 Dec 2009 20:36:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Pencil Shavings]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=4483</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[ The maid’s judgment lingered around the Bible, perched on my pillow.
[Daphne Reed, Asheville, NC]


♦
 At night, the bed became a terrarium, and I the dirt that ants and centipedes and crickets crawled over, burrowed in, chewed through.
[Kevin Hong, Needham, MA]

♦
If I’d known better, I would’ve stretched
The days till their sunsets began to chip;
If I’d [...]]]></description>
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