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	<title>The Blue Pencil Online &#187; Pencil Shavings</title>
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	<description>Writing &#38; Publishing at Walnut Hill</description>
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		<title>Recycling</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/recycling/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/recycling/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 30 May 2010 10:43:51 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Pencil Shavings]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=6382</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[She sits on the chair, playing  her harp, swaying back and forth, wrinkling my old prom dress.
[Chloe Volkwein, Greenwich, CT]

♦
When Rufina Rex was old enough  to hold a pair of scissors, she would cut the beautiful, synthetic hair  of her dolls and gather the curls, which she would then try to glue [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Nakedness</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/nakedness/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/nakedness/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 16 Apr 2010 18:45:47 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Pencil Shavings]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=5528</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[There the turkey lay, drumsticks out, skin burnt and flaking off the meat after too many hours in the tanning bed.
[Mary Carter, Lenox, MA]


♦
Rex: Hey, hey, baby, don&#8217;t cry, please don&#8217;t cry; I think you&#8217;re beautiful, you know I do, the prettiest girl I&#8217;ve ever—kissed, even—and I just don&#8217;t like to see you all &#8230; [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<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>
		<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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		<item>
		<title>Migration</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/migration/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/migration/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2009 19:19:10 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Pencil Shavings]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=3066</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[ My great country-club son will return tomorrow for the summer holidays, and yes, we are happy to see him.
[Amy U. Noons, Natick, MA]

♦
I woke to nothing in my bed but the empty skin you shed to join the geese in clumsy lettering across a sheet of sky.
[Gabriella Fee, Lincoln, MA]

♦

I migrated from my bed [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Photo Booths</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/photo-booths/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/photo-booths/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 04 Apr 2009 12:08:48 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Pencil Shavings]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=2298</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[We were young then, the lick of ocean salt on your lips, sweat our summer coats, and I remember your weight on my lap as the smell of sunscreen filled the booth and the flash caught us.
[Kim MacCormack, Dover, MA] 

♦
Jenny found them in her mother&#8217;s underwear drawer as she was looking for a twenty [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Baldness</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/baldness-2/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/baldness-2/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 06 Mar 2009 21:12:33 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Pencil Shavings]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=2123</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#8230; And the Red Sea parted.
[Kevin Hong, Needham, MA]


♦
I had shaved off half my hair when Mom walked in; she unplugged the razor.
[Laura Wanamaker, Chatham, MA]

♦
Bridgette had not expected such monsters—living machines with steaming breath and clacking teeth that would tear a girl&#8217;s hair from her bent head if she leaned too close.
[Gabriella Fee, Lincoln, [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Greetings</title>
		<link>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/greetings/</link>
		<comments>http://www.thebluepencil.net/pencil-shavings/greetings/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 05 Feb 2009 21:33:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Pencil Shavings]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.thebluepencil.net/?p=421</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[ 
Daisy felt the familiar brush of her hand against Jerry’s as he let the cat out through the screened flap, his keys jingling.
[Kim MacCormack, Dover, MA]


♦

 
A touch of straight knuckles to the brow and removed.
[Laura Wanamaker, Chatham, MA]

♦

A storm: a star-scruff black boy threshes with thunder
and up-gathers our voices, though we don&#8217;t call [...]]]></description>
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