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	<title>Fogged Clarity &#187; Poetry</title>
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	<description>An Arts Review</description>
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	<itunes:summary>Arts Review Fogged Clarity&#039;s interviews with authors, musicians and poets, exclusive acoustic music sessions and poetry readings from some of the world&#039;s most gifted and interesting contemporary creators.  TC Boyle, Benjamin Percy, Samantha Farrell, Strand of Oaks, Cryptacize, Bruce Smith, Joe Meno, Olivia Broadfield... plus many more. Hosted by Benjamin Evans, Executive Editor of Fogged Clarity.</itunes:summary>
	<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
	<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
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		<itunes:name>Fogged Clarity</itunes:name>
		<itunes:email>ryandaly@foggedclarity.com</itunes:email>
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	<managingEditor>ryandaly@foggedclarity.com (Fogged Clarity)</managingEditor>
	<copyright>Fogged Clarity</copyright>
	<itunes:subtitle>Interviews, Readings and sessions with authors, musicians and poets </itunes:subtitle>
	<itunes:keywords>Fogged Clarity, Art, Music, Literature, Fiction, Authors, Interviews, Visual, Poetry, Review, Journal</itunes:keywords>
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		<title>Fogged Clarity &#187; Poetry</title>
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	<itunes:category text="Arts" />
	<itunes:category text="Music" />
	<itunes:category text="Arts">
		<itunes:category text="Literature" />
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		<item>
		<title>A Child&#8217;s Sidewalk Topography</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/a-childs-sidewalk-topography/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/a-childs-sidewalk-topography/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:28:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[A Child's Sidewalk Topography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[John Sandoval]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=8048</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[John Sandoval (&#8230;is the cup equal to the broth or is the broth forever poison to whatever pretends to contain it&#8230;) at twilight, the play of children is heard their voices soon to fade then to bed and dream, to scheme and construct the scratched logic of prayer in the dark of fingers by instinct [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Heart Trouble</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/heart-trouble/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/heart-trouble/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:28:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Heart Trouble]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Howie Good]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=8050</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Howie Good 1 Pilots called them Flying Coffins. He scanned the dingy sky. The war had just started. Tourists listened in a daze to a cunning old woman who had outlived all her children. 2 His heart started going like an antiaircraft gun, a spy caught leaving coded messages. Dusk seemed to fall by 2 [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Ways of Mourning</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/ways-of-mourning/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/ways-of-mourning/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:28:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Leonard Gontarek]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ways of Mourning]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=8058</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Leonard Gontarek My father takes me out of school early. I’m 9. Mother is dead. He lets me drive. Leonard Gontarek is the author of St. Genevieve Watching Over Paris,Van Morrison Can’t Find His Feet, Zen For Beginners, and Déjà Vu Diner.His poems have appeared in American Poetry Review, Fence, Field, Pool, Volt, Verse, The [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Interior With George Harrison Song</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/interior-with-george-harrison-song/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/interior-with-george-harrison-song/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:28:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[American Poetry Review]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Best American Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[George Harrision]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Leonard Gontarek]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[song]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=8061</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Leonard Gontarek Mouthing the wind that falls into the trees and behind the trees. So good to be home. Clouds break up like small planes. The cardinals and bluebirds at home. My feet up on God’s coffee table, setting down my drink without a cocktail napkin. What Gontarek would do. Grandmother in her wedding gown, [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Experimental Mission in the Void</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/experimental-mission-in-the-void/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/experimental-mission-in-the-void/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:28:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Expirimental Mission in the Void]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[KJ Hays]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=8065</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[KJ Hays The man on the moon used the 9-12 seconds of oxygen nestled in his blood for dancing after the lifeline that kept him tethered to our precious capsule dissolved in the void. With the pulse melody ceasing in the man&#8217;s body, we gazed out into the dark atmospheric hush to watch his convulsions [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>August 2010</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/august-2010/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/august-2010/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:28:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ryan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Archives]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[art]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[full album]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[James Lasdun]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Loch Lomond]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Michael Shapcott]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[music]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Reviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=8068</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
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</object> This month we are pleased to feature an interview with the masterful Mr. James Lasdun. Portland quintet Loch Lomond’s album, Night Bats streams all month, we debut a beautiful new piece of fiction from author Dan Forward, poems from Richard Foerster and Mark Vogel, beautiful [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Howie Good</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/howie-good/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/howie-good/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:28:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Interviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[audio]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Featured interview]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Howie Good]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Lovesick]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=8093</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Fogged Clarity Interview The poet reads and discusses his process and aesthetic. Howie Good is the author of a full-length poetry collection, Lovesick, as well as 21 print and digital poetry chapbooks, including most recently, Hello, Darkness, available from Deadly Chaps.]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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			<itunes:keywords>audio,Featured interview,Howie Good,Lovesick,Poetry</itunes:keywords>
		<itunes:subtitle>The Fogged Clarity Interview - The poet reads and discusses his process and aesthetic.  -  Howie Good is the author of a full-length poetry collection, Lovesick, as well as 21 print and digital poetry chapbooks, including most recently, Hello, Darkness,</itunes:subtitle>
		<itunes:summary>The Fogged Clarity Interview

The poet reads and discusses his process and aesthetic. 

(http://www.foggedclarity.com/wp-content/themes/elegant-grunge/images/top.jpg)
Howie Good is the author of a full-length poetry collection, Lovesick, as well as 21 print and digital poetry chapbooks, including most recently, Hello, Darkness, available from Deadly Chaps.   
</itunes:summary>
		<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
		<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
		<itunes:duration>33:43</itunes:duration>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Debris Field</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/the-debris-field/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/the-debris-field/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:28:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[NYU]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Scott Hightower]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The Debris Field]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=8018</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Scott Hightower The figure standing and raising a sword between Babylon and the return to Jerusalem was St. Michael, protector of Abraham’s people; Justice; Michael, field commander of the army of “the one true God.” * In 1909, New York City commissioned Frederick MacMonnies, one of America’s most prominent sculptors, to design a fountain for [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Noble Chart, A Radiance&#8211;1794</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/noble-chart-a-radiance-1794/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/noble-chart-a-radiance-1794/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:28:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[a radiance]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[noble chart]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Scott Hightower]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=8025</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Scott Hightower (“Monsieur Lavoisier and his Wife,” Jacques-Louis David, 1788; The Metropolitan Museum of Art)   It is the morning of May 8th; Madame Lavoisier has just been orphaned. Within a few more minutes she, likewise, will be widowed; the guillotine, oddly taking the name of a man who did not invent it. May 8th, [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Identity Redux</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/identity-redux/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/08/identity-redux/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:28:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ben Evans]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Identity Redux]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ryan daly]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Scott Hightower]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=8030</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Scott Hightower (Paved Paradise, John Kelly, 2009) The first television program put into re-runs was “The Lone Ranger.” -a Snapple bottle top A frame. Two keyboards, a bass, a dulcimer, and five guitars set the stage for “Dagmar Onassis.” Kiss. Kiss. What? Has it been sixteen years? What does it matter that the roses upstage [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>My Mother&#8217;s Hands</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/my-mothers-hands/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/my-mothers-hands/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Jul 2010 19:07:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Michelle Lin]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[My mother's hands]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7760</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Michelle Lin They are beginning to spot like over-ripened fruit She holds them over her cup, folding in the smoke like fine linen With their fingers splayed, they are lotus flowers, pale white and reaching over sweating kitchen pots for a napkin Sometimes at night, I watch her sort laundry by the bed, her hands [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Blue</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/blue/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/blue/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Jul 2010 19:07:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Peter Waldor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7763</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Peter Waldor If one runs out of food up here a blue flower can be eaten for weeks, but another blue flower is deadly. There is a difference between them I have forgotten. Peter Waldor is a poet living in New Jersey. His collection, Door to a Noisy Room (Alice James 2008) was a finalist [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Paperclip</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/paperclip/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/paperclip/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Jul 2010 19:07:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Michael T. Young]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paperclip]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7768</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Michael T. Young I learned that in an interview to enter Oxford they might ask how you would describe infinity, and I thought about once being asked how I would describe a paperclip to an alien, that is, to someone who’s never seen one. It was a writing exercise that made me think of how [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Escapology</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/escapology/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/escapology/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Jul 2010 19:07:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Chelsea]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Escapology]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kenyon Review]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Richard Foerster]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The Southern Review]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7798</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Richard Foerster To escape the cage locked with combinations long ago set to memory —there’s the trick. But rust can hold fast the once calculated fall of the tumblers, and the self find itself submerged in icy waters. Where then’s the oil of reason, and what contortion can dislodge a skeleton key stuck in the [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>An Open Window</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/an-open-window/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/an-open-window/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Jul 2010 19:07:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[An Open Window]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Richard Foerster]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7804</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Richard Foerster Disbelief can sweep like surf across the sill, or what the oaks mimic: shuttled limbs, wind-woven susurrations, which the house breathes in, fabricating a dream through which lovers can raft on the ambient dark, and their minds, relenting, settle, passive yet attentive to the sensuous slosh of sea and air— that’s how our [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Hotel Gabriel</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/hotel-gabriel/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/hotel-gabriel/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Jul 2010 19:07:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hotel Gabriel]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Richard Foerster]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7807</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Richard Foerster I woke in alien dark to a babble of plumbing through the walls and an AC’s rushed but whispered intimacies with the night. Even my own breath’s shallow ebb and flow seemed oceanic in that room circling around some invisible and shaky axis. I was lost, but through the keyhole’s tiny Moorish arch, [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Thunderbolt</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/thunderbolt/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/thunderbolt/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Jul 2010 19:07:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Appalachian State University]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Boone]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mark Vogel]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[North Carolina]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Thunderbolt]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7813</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Mark Vogel &#8220;The family of a man whose body was discovered in April in a closet at a Thunderbolt nursing home has retained an attorney in the matter.&#8221; Savannah Morning News, Monday, June 30, 2008. From the beginning, living in the Thunderbolt, they have asked for trouble. So how surprising is it that alzheimered Walter, [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>James Lasdun</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/james-lasdun/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/james-lasdun/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Jul 2010 19:07:03 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Interviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[An Anxious Man]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[audio]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[author]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[authors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bernardo Bertolucci]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Columbia]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[creative writing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dylan Thomas Award]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Guggenheim]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[It's Beginning to Hurt]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[James Lasdun]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[NYU]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Princeton]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Seven Lies]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The Horned Man]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The New School]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7821</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Fogged Clarity Interview The prolific London-born writer sits down with Ben to discuss his process, style, and latest collection, It&#8217;s Beginning To Hurt. James Lasdun was born in London and now lives in upstate New York. He has published three collections of stories, three books of poetry, and two novels, including The Horned Man, [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
<enclosure url="http://media.blubrry.com/foggedclarity/foggedclarity.com/audio/interviews/2010/August/JamesLasdunInterview.mp3" length="33494487" type="audio/mpeg" />
			<itunes:keywords>An Anxious Man,audio,author,authors,Bernardo Bertolucci,Columbia,creative writing,Dylan Thomas Award,fogged clarity,Guggenheim,It&#039;s Beginning to Hurt,James Lasdun</itunes:keywords>
		<itunes:subtitle>The Fogged Clarity Interview - The prolific London-born writer sits down with Ben to discuss his process, style, and latest collection, It&#039;s Beginning To Hurt.  -  - James Lasdun was born in London and now lives in upstate New York.</itunes:subtitle>
		<itunes:summary>The Fogged Clarity Interview

The prolific London-born writer sits down with Ben to discuss his process, style, and latest collection, It&#039;s Beginning To Hurt. 
(http://foggedclarity.com/images/otherFeatures/2010/August/jamesLasdun.jpg)
(http://www.foggedclarity.com/wp-content/themes/elegant-grunge/images/top.jpg)

James Lasdun was born in London and now lives in upstate New York.  He has published three collections of stories, three books of poetry, and two novels, including The Horned Man, which was a New York Times Notable Book.  His story “An Anxious Man” was the winner of the UK’s National Short Story Prize, and his story “The Siege” was the basis for the Bernardo Bertolucci film Besieged.  He is the recipient of a Dylan Thomas Award for short fiction and a Guggenheim fellowship for poetry, and has taught creative writing at Princeton, NYU, Columbia and The New School.  Lasdun’s most recent work is a collection of stories entitled, It’s Beginning To Hurt.    
</itunes:summary>
		<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
		<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
		<itunes:duration>34:53</itunes:duration>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>A Review of Julie Sheehan&#8217;s &#8220;Bar Book&#8221;</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/a-review-of-julie-sheehans-bar-book/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/a-review-of-julie-sheehans-bar-book/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Jul 2010 19:07:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Reviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bar Book]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Julie Sheehan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Scott Hightower]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7853</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Scott Hightower Bar Book, Julie Sheehan Norton, 2010, 978-0-39-307217-4, $24.95 _____________________________________________________________________________ Bar Book, Julie Sheehan’s third title, is a concoction of poetry and prose. Sheehan centers the book around the voice of an American barmaid; and what unfolds is a narrative of lost comfort and security&#8211;both emotional and financial. Life does not always go as [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>July 2010</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/july-2010/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/07/july-2010/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 30 Jul 2010 20:18:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ryan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Archives]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Anna Vogelzang]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bill Burr]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Interviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[July 2010]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mike De Lange]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7910</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[  Our printed book, Fogged Clarity 1 is published and ready to ship. The collection features new stories, poems and visual art by the following creators: Benjamin Percy Joe Meno Bruce Smith Terese Svoboda John Hemingway Michael Tyrell Takashi Saito Christoper Reiger and many more… Please help support The Clarity and order a copy of [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Time Darkens It</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/time-darkens-it/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/time-darkens-it/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Jul 2010 01:28:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ben Evans]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Lois Beebe Hayna]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ryan daly]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Time Darkens It]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7534</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Lois Beebe Hayna He says swallows circled over them. She remembers no sound of wings. Only of water harsh with autumn. Sometimes now birds–cries shrill through dream–converse and she wakes awed by a strange sense of flight, just as he says he must have imagined the swallows. He speaks of an apple tree bee-loud with [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>In The Greater Metropolitan Area</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/in-the-greater-metropolitan-area/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/in-the-greater-metropolitan-area/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Jul 2010 01:28:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ben Evans]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[In the greater Metropolitan area]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Michelle Askin]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ryan daly]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7545</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Michelle Askin Those memories go to my brother’s eyes: kidney red from drugs. My mother rubbing them with a dishrag, praying to the saint of addiction. Then on our row house lawn he swung clubs with an Asian woman, who one midnight said, you teach me golf. My mother worried: the husband might mind. He [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Finding Myself Quitting My Job</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/finding-myself-quitting-my-job/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/finding-myself-quitting-my-job/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Jul 2010 01:28:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Finding Myself Quitting My Job]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Linda Back McKay]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7548</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Linda Back McKay By the lake, just in time. Sweet water ocean tossed over rocks by the moon&#8217;s sleight of hand. We warm by degrees, reluctant to give over to change. I feel ornery like my banging first floor radiator. Steam rises to meet a peeled-back sky. Swallowing perfumes of honeysuckle, apple blossom, columbine, I [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Arthur&#8217;s Daughter</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/arthurs-daughter/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/arthurs-daughter/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Jul 2010 01:28:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Arthur's Daughter]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ben Evans]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[ryan daly]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Terra Brigando]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7584</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Terra Brigando Recently, you have been everywhere. I carry your journals as weathered talismans, a sign of misguidance – the way you stole my voice when I was five and I learned that mountains shed such long shadows in rooms that don’t face the sun. I thought I saw you, the other day, walking down [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Soft Object</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/soft-object/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/soft-object/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Jul 2010 01:28:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ben Evans]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Leonore Wilson]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[ryan daly]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Soft Object]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7590</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Leonore Wilson That which goes into the mouth and is eaten is mortal, perishable, transformed   like knowledge, the way a subject takes within himself something important, alien, that which is hard   made soft, deliquesces, and this thing becomes him, doesn’t it, isn’t this what Dali wanted us to see,   to understand in [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Barbara Ras, &#8220;The Last Skin&#8221;</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/barbara-ras-the-last-skin/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/06/barbara-ras-the-last-skin/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Jul 2010 01:28:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Reviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Barbara Ras]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Penguin]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Scott Hightower]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The Last Skin]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7656</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[A Review by Scott Hightower “The Last Skin” Barbara Ras Penguin, 2010, 978-0-14-311697-4, $18.00 _______________________________________ The poems in Barbara Ras’s new book, The Last Skin are as fluid and graceful as those in her previous two collections: Bite Every Sorrow and One Hidden Stuff. The Last Skin is an extension of the metaphysics laid out [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Karen Swenson, &quot;A Pilgrim into Silence&quot;</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/karen-swenson-a-pilgrim-into-silence/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/karen-swenson-a-pilgrim-into-silence/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 04:11:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Reviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[A Pilgrim into Silence]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ben Evans]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Karen Swenson]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[ryan daly]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Scott Hightower]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7282</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Scott Hightower A Pilgrim into Silence, Tiger Bark Press, 2010 _________________________________________________________ Karen Swenson’s newest title, A Pilgrim into Silence, is divided into four sections. Each of the sections explores the life journey of an urban American woman—a woman of a generation and a class perhaps tinged with theatrical qualities of pomp and circumstance; a lady [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Como Lake, Saint Paul</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/como-lake-saint-paul/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/como-lake-saint-paul/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 04:11:42 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Como Lake]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Saint Paul]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[William Reichard]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7190</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[William Reichard The man on the farther shore is fishing. I can see him cast his line into the clear water. The lake is ringed with signs that warn, in three languages, not to eat the fish. The ducks are back. Coots, they’re called. Small black bodies, white heads. They only pass through in spring [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
<enclosure url="http://media.blubrry.com/foggedclarity/foggedclarity.com/audio/readings/2010/June/ComoLakeStPaul.mp3" length="1348275" type="audio/mpeg" />
			<itunes:keywords>Como Lake,fogged clarity,poem,Poetry,poets,Saint Paul,William Reichard</itunes:keywords>
		<itunes:subtitle>William Reichard - The man on the farther shore is fishing. I can see him cast his line into the clear water. The lake is ringed with signs that warn, in three languages, not to eat the fish. The ducks are back. Coots, they’re called. Small black bodies,</itunes:subtitle>
		<itunes:summary>William Reichard

The man on the farther shore is fishing. I can see him cast his line into the clear water. The lake is ringed with signs that warn, in three languages, not to eat the fish. The ducks are back. Coots, they’re called. Small black bodies, white heads. They only pass through in spring and fall. They summer someplace else. Two gulls fly low to the water. They’re crying back and forth. Their bellies, the underside of their wings, look so smooth and white. I’m lying on cement steps that lead down into the water. I’m soaking up the heat after a painful winter. It’s so bright I go sunblind if I stare too long at the ripples on the lake. Just off the steps, the pristine water. I can count the stones at the bottom. Under my left arm, a small lump is growing. It’s barely painful. Tomorrow the doctor, a sibyl of the body, will look at it and tell my fortune. Today there’s only the sun, the slight lap-lap of the waves as they lick the farther shore.
(http://www.foggedclarity.com/wp-content/themes/elegant-grunge/images/top.jpg)

(http://foggedclarity.com/images/otherFeatures/2010/June/williamReichard.png)
William Reichard is the author of four collections of poetry, including Sin Eater (2010) and This Brightness (2007) from Mid-List Press. He lives and works in Saint Paul, MN.

</itunes:summary>
		<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
		<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
		<itunes:duration>1:24</itunes:duration>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Heaven Come Down</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/heaven-come-down/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/heaven-come-down/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 04:11:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Heaven Come Down]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[William Reichard]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7196</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[William Reichard In the dark gazebo, a small bench. The shades pulled against the light, the heat. Nearby, a fountain. Its water endlessly cycled through and through until it begins to evaporate. By then, most of the blooms will have fallen. Summer turns sticky, scratchy. People are foul-mouthed, bad tempered. It lasts longer than anyone [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/heaven-come-down/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
<enclosure url="http://media.blubrry.com/foggedclarity/foggedclarity.com/audio/readings/2010/June/HeavenComeDowmn.mp3" length="809132" type="audio/mpeg" />
			<itunes:keywords>fogged clarity,Heaven Come Down,poem,poems,Poetry,poets,William Reichard</itunes:keywords>
		<itunes:subtitle>William Reichard - In the dark gazebo, a small bench. The shades pulled against the light, the heat. Nearby, a fountain. Its water endlessly cycled through and through until it begins to evaporate. By then, most of the blooms will have fallen.</itunes:subtitle>
		<itunes:summary>William Reichard

In the dark gazebo, a small bench. The shades pulled against the light, the heat. Nearby, a fountain. Its water endlessly cycled through and through until it begins to evaporate. By then, most of the blooms will have fallen. Summer turns sticky, scratchy. People are foul-mouthed, bad tempered. It lasts longer than anyone can count. Forget the shaded gazebo, that octagonal house of pleasure’s shadows. Forget the fountain. Summer takes it’s own pace. The sky refuses you. It will not open up.
(http://www.foggedclarity.com/wp-content/themes/elegant-grunge/images/top.jpg)

(http://foggedclarity.com/images/otherFeatures/2010/June/williamReichard.png)
William Reichard is the author of four collections of poetry, including Sin Eater (2010) and This Brightness (2007) from Mid-List Press. He lives and works in Saint Paul, MN.
</itunes:summary>
		<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
		<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
		<itunes:duration>50</itunes:duration>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>S&#233;ance</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/seance/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/seance/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 04:11:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Seance]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[William Reichard]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7199</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[William Reichard If there was a way to talk with you, I don’t think I’d use it. Titillating, the notion of communicating with another plane, my voice finding your voice in a vague celestial space between one world and another. But frightening. Too much so. The gift the dead give us: silence. We can claim [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/seance/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
<enclosure url="http://media.blubrry.com/foggedclarity/foggedclarity.com/audio/readings/2010/June/Seance.mp3" length="1284967" type="audio/mpeg" />
			<itunes:keywords>fogged clarity,poem,poems,Poetry,poets,Seance,William Reichard</itunes:keywords>
		<itunes:subtitle>William Reichard - If there was a way to talk with you, I don’t think I’d use it.  Titillating, the notion of communicating with another plane, my voice finding your voice in a vague celestial space between one world and another.  But frightening.</itunes:subtitle>
		<itunes:summary>William Reichard

If there was a way to talk with you, I don’t think
I’d use it.  Titillating, the notion of communicating
with another plane, my voice finding your voice in a vague
celestial space between one world and another.  But frightening.
Too much so.  The gift the dead give us:  silence.
We can claim we have things to say, apologies
to make; we know it can never be so we talk big.
One evening, by myself watching television, I turned
and saw a pale white form on the stairs.  It was a woman.
She seemed utterly alone.  Not at peace.  Not in torment.  Not
anything at all.  Dispossessed of the earth, even of the house
through which she seemed to glide.  I was terrified.
It’s better, I think, to speculate on the next world.  Ghosts
taunt us with all we do and do not know.  So stay quiet
my dear, please.  Let me forget the shape of your face.  Allow
me to lose, through time and attrition, your voice’s timbre.
(http://www.foggedclarity.com/wp-content/themes/elegant-grunge/images/top.jpg)

(http://foggedclarity.com/images/otherFeatures/2010/June/williamReichard.png)
William Reichard is the author of four collections of poetry, including Sin Eater (2010) and This Brightness (2007) from Mid-List Press. He lives and works in Saint Paul, MN.

</itunes:summary>
		<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
		<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
		<itunes:duration>1:20</itunes:duration>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Wallace Stevens in My Garden</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/wallace-stevens-in-my-garden/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/wallace-stevens-in-my-garden/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 04:11:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Garden]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Wallace Stevens]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[William Reichard]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7203</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[William Reichard There’s no idea of order here unless we can claim that an utter lack of plan is, in fact, itself a plan. Things were planted as they came, no thought to size or sprawl, no sense of what a small tree can become. Thus, the branches of the tall, wide birch reach everywhere [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
<enclosure url="http://media.blubrry.com/foggedclarity/foggedclarity.com/audio/readings/2010/June/WallaceStevensInMyGarden.mp3" length="1334572" type="audio/mpeg" />
			<itunes:keywords>fogged clarity,Garden,poem,poems,Poetry,poets,Wallace Stevens,William Reichard</itunes:keywords>
		<itunes:subtitle>William Reichard - There’s no idea of order here unless we can claim that an utter lack of plan is, in fact, itself a plan. Things were planted as they came, no thought to size or sprawl, no sense of what a small tree can become. Thus,</itunes:subtitle>
		<itunes:summary>William Reichard

There’s no idea of order here unless we can claim that an utter lack of plan is, in fact, itself a plan. Things were planted as they came, no thought to size or sprawl, no sense of what a small tree can become. Thus, the branches of the tall, wide birch reach everywhere for sun, and the peonies, long rooted in one spot, starve for lack of light. Each year, they’re more diminished. It’s troublesome, having no vision, afraid of killing any little thing so everything lives and reverts to a feral state. Darwinism in the flower beds, chaos in the trees. What is order in nature? If the meek, at last, will inherit the earth, there’s no use in fighting. The lilies under the sumac are dwarfed, though their stunted blooms shine just as bright. The shy ferns grow tall, even in sunlight, popping up, it seems, overnight. Where is the order in anything? Or was it only ever an idea, your dream of a little Utopia? I know you’ll understand this. It’s not what I had planned.
(http://www.foggedclarity.com/wp-content/themes/elegant-grunge/images/top.jpg)

(http://foggedclarity.com/images/otherFeatures/2010/June/williamReichard.png)
William Reichard is the author of four collections of poetry, including Sin Eater (2010) and This Brightness (2007) from Mid-List Press. He lives and works in Saint Paul, MN.
</itunes:summary>
		<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
		<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
		<itunes:duration>1:23</itunes:duration>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Shift Change</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/shift-change/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/shift-change/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 04:11:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Shift Change]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[William Reichard]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7206</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[William Reichard The t-shirts hang like ghosts against the coal blackened houses. How long can anything stay white in this shadow city, the mine an open maw to the underworld? I’ve seen it eat a dozen men in one day; seen it kill hundreds more: black lung; emphysema; the slow wasting death when one might [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
<enclosure url="http://media.blubrry.com/foggedclarity/foggedclarity.com/audio/readings/2010/June/ShiftChange.mp3" length="901213" type="audio/mpeg" />
			<itunes:keywords>fogged clarity,poem,poems,Poetry,poets,Shift Change,William Reichard</itunes:keywords>
		<itunes:subtitle>William Reichard - The t-shirts hang like ghosts against the coal blackened houses. How long can anything stay white in this shadow city, the mine an open maw to the underworld? I’ve seen it eat a dozen men in one day; seen it kill hundreds more: black...</itunes:subtitle>
		<itunes:summary>William Reichard

The t-shirts hang like ghosts against the coal blackened houses.
How long can anything stay white in this shadow city, the mine
an open maw to the underworld? I’ve seen it eat a dozen men
in one day; seen it kill hundreds more: black lung;
emphysema; the slow wasting death when one
might prefer the cave-in, those quick, merciful tons of rock.
I can see him walking home, knapsack on his back.
Pay day again so there’s food for a week, maybe
a rabbit caught in the snare. I cannot say I know him well.
He’s lived here all of his life, and mine, but there’s a silence
that passes between men who work in the ground,
an unspokenness where words must carry no meaning.
(http://www.foggedclarity.com/wp-content/themes/elegant-grunge/images/top.jpg)

(http://foggedclarity.com/images/otherFeatures/2010/June/williamReichard.png)
William Reichard is the author of four collections of poetry, including Sin Eater (2010) and This Brightness (2007) from Mid-List Press. He lives and works in Saint Paul, MN.
</itunes:summary>
		<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
		<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
		<itunes:duration>56</itunes:duration>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Untitled</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/oleg-1/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/oleg-1/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 04:11:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Oleg Yuriev]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[translation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[translations]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7226</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Oleg Yuriev Translation by Anton Tenser and Sasha Spektor ______________________ На глубоко-синем небе треугольные круги. Из-за лиственного блеска не по-русский говоръят. Тишина и нега мира – вот вам главные враги, Отрядившие дозором голубят и воробьят. Сколько будет еще длиться этот вечер-до-войны, Сколько еще будут литься щебетанья и щелчки, Сколько виться еще будут ангелочки сатаны – [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Untitled</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/oleg-2/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/oleg-2/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 04:11:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Oleg Yuriev]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[translations]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7220</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Oleg Yuriev Translated by Anton Tenser, Alex Spektor and Danya Cherkasky _________________________ Во мгле хрипят червивые цыгане И нашатырно пахнет от мездры. Заросшими веревкой утюгами Переступают мертвые одры. Трещат огни холерного обоза, Визжит петух в селении на дне. Не та дорога и не эта роза – Не от меня. Не я. И не ко мне [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>This is Why</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/this-is-why/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/05/this-is-why/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 04:11:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jean Berret]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[This is Why]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=7257</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Jean Berret After rain, the weedy parking lots were gray and quiet and narrow strips of long grass soaked our shoes as we headed home. At night we lay in bed and listened to them shriek while something else (strange as what they told us would be death) was calling deep inside. My brother. So [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Parallel (Paralyzed) Lives</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/parallel-paralyzed-lives/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/parallel-paralyzed-lives/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 30 Apr 2010 22:35:55 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ben Evans]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Cornell]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Daniel R. Schwarz]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Daniel Schwarz]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Parallel Lives]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paralyzed Lives]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ryan daly]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=6724</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Daniel R. Schwarz Cooking naked: Seasoning salmon fillets with sensuous overture— olive oil, oregano, lemon juice, black pepper; I shave the asparagus stalks, she tosses salad. Dancing as one, we revel in soft gazes, urgent touches, tongues respond with bluesy kisses, sounds in our throats as sighs cross desires. At dawn our music ceases. Daniel [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Deborah Bogen Review</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/deborah-bogen-review/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/deborah-bogen-review/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 30 Apr 2010 22:35:55 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Reviews]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Deborah Bogen]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Let me open you a swan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Review]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Scott Hightower]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=6849</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Scott Hightower Let Me Open You a Swan, Elixir Press, 2010 ____________________________________________ Upon reading Landscape with Silos, Deborah Bogen’s first award winning book, one could recognize authentic, accomplished poetics. In her new book, Let Me Open You a Swan, Bogen again lays out a moving constellation. The girl who once kicked a can down the [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Nativity Love Song</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/nativity-love-song/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/nativity-love-song/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 30 Apr 2010 22:35:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[audio]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ben Evans]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Emily Loftis]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Nativity Love Song]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[reading]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ryan daly]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=6739</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Emily Loftis Skinbag of bones at a backchurch graveyard, where we drove to fuck, while bruised December sits low over your loose tongued ’85 Toyota You are Adam I am an Adam too. And next to my window, a church lawn holds the sign, LIVE! YOU ARE GOD’S CHILDREN over Trinity’s Christmas nativity, hushholding still [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
<enclosure url="http://media.blubrry.com/foggedclarity/foggedclarity.com/audio/readings/2010/May/NativityLoveSong.mp3" length="4364497" type="audio/mpeg" />
			<itunes:keywords>audio,Ben Evans,Emily Loftis,fogged clarity,Nativity Love Song,poem,poems,Poetry,poets,reading,ryan daly</itunes:keywords>
		<itunes:subtitle>Emily Loftis - Skinbag of bones at a backchurch graveyard, where we drove to fuck, while bruised December sits low over your loose tongued ’85 Toyota You are Adam I am an Adam too. And next to my window, a church lawn holds the sign, LIVE!</itunes:subtitle>
		<itunes:summary>Emily Loftis

Skinbag of bones at a backchurch graveyard, where we drove to fuck, while bruised December sits low over your loose tongued ’85 Toyota
You are Adam I am an Adam too.
And next to my window, a church lawn holds the sign, LIVE! YOU ARE GOD’S CHILDREN over Trinity’s Christmas nativity, hushholding still it’s nightly creatures like crude moonbaby dreams, dim in the light of plastic eyes; Mother, Joseph, and Child awake in the snow.
But I don’t know if their redemption can find us, can soothe the spaces between our limbs contorting in your car; escaping their eclipsed battery forms, the coils of plastic eyes now pooling light upon our fallen Adam tangles.
My hand is on your arm, my hand is on your zipper, I find you to enter the garden as if our reprise never happened.
You are reborn you are reborn you are reborn you are reborn you are reborn you are reborn you are reborn now
Fractures of rapture in our boughs, under the coarse candescence shed from infant Jesus onto ribbons of muscle, tendons and sinews of your body on top of my body, bold as brutality.
And it is only then, as it is finished, when you wipe your thumb against my passenger window, that I see new through the steam of holy water, read new the church sign’s message rupturing dark against all the white of snow, of skin, and your Celica.
Black lettering which once was LIVE! YOU ARE GOD’S CHILDREN has been rearranged, so that when I read GOD EVIL CHILDREN YOU ARE! I think that it’s true, oh God, I think that it’s true and want to cry or maybe pray or laugh and instead, grab my winter coat from the backseat tucking you in it as though to cover you, wrap you as in swaddling clothes.
The lights of the nativity scene flicker up as dusk trails around us, baby Jesus, cold blind irises open under the black script.
(http://www.foggedclarity.com/wp-content/themes/elegant-grunge/images/top.jpg)
Emily Loftis is pursuing degrees in Art and Creative Writing at Grand Valley State University.
</itunes:summary>
		<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
		<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
		<itunes:duration>3:38</itunes:duration>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Famous Long Ago</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/famous-long-ago/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/famous-long-ago/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 30 Apr 2010 22:35:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[audio]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Famous Long Ago]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Howie Good]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Lovesick]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[reading]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://foggedclarity.com/?p=6773</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Howie Good Oh, habitués of the walk-in clinic! Oh, aficionados of the cockpit voice recorder! Nothingness isn’t something you sleep off in a doorway. The buildings are full of forgotten vaudevillians and signs that say EXIT, and every panhandler demonstrates the doubtful efficacy of begging. Light slows to a trickle. The sun has gone behind [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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			<itunes:keywords>audio,Famous Long Ago,Howie Good,Lovesick,poem,poet,Poetry,poets,reading</itunes:keywords>
		<itunes:subtitle>Howie Good - Oh, habitués of the walk-in clinic! Oh, aficionados of the cockpit voice recorder! Nothingness isn’t something you sleep off in a doorway. The buildings are full of forgotten vaudevillians and signs that say EXIT,</itunes:subtitle>
		<itunes:summary>Howie Good

Oh, habitués of the walk-in clinic! Oh, aficionados of the cockpit voice recorder!
Nothingness isn’t something you sleep off in a doorway.
The buildings
are full of forgotten vaudevillians and signs that say EXIT,
and every panhandler demonstrates the doubtful efficacy of begging.
Light slows to a trickle. The sun has gone behind a cloud.
Minutes stumble like horse thieves leaning over the necks of stolen horses.
(http://www.foggedclarity.com/wp-content/themes/elegant-grunge/images/top.jpg)
Howie Good is a journalism professor at the State University of New York at New Paltz, and is the author of 18 print and digital poetry chapbooks and the full-length collection of poetry, Lovesick (2009). His second full-length collection, Heart With a Dirty Windshield, will be published by BeWrite Books. 
</itunes:summary>
		<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
		<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
		<itunes:duration>41</itunes:duration>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Seeing Eye</title>
		<link>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/seeing-eye/</link>
		<comments>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/seeing-eye/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 30 Apr 2010 22:35:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ben</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[audio]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fogged clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kevin Simmonds]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[reading]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[San Francisco]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Seeing Eye]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Kevin Simmonds Chosen because you didn’t run from the ball or ringing bell. You go to school a believer in treats for complete stops and avoiding fire. Habit becomes pleasure. And there will never be anything more delicious for you than obedience. Kevin Simmonds is a writer and musician originally from New Orleans. His writing [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://foggedclarity.com/2010/04/seeing-eye/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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			<itunes:keywords>audio,fogged clarity,Kevin Simmonds,poem,poems,poet,Poetry,poets,reading,San Francisco,Seeing Eye</itunes:keywords>
		<itunes:subtitle>Kevin Simmonds - Chosen because you didn’t run from the ball or ringing bell. You go to school a believer in treats for complete stops and avoiding fire. Habit becomes pleasure. And there will never be anything more delicious for you than obedience.</itunes:subtitle>
		<itunes:summary>Kevin Simmonds

Chosen because you didn’t run from the ball or ringing bell. You go to school a believer in treats for complete stops and avoiding fire. Habit becomes pleasure. And there will never be anything more delicious for you than obedience.
(http://www.foggedclarity.com/wp-content/themes/elegant-grunge/images/top.jpg)
Kevin Simmonds is a writer and musician originally from New Orleans. His writing has appeared in Field, jubilat, Poetry, and elsewhere.  He edited the poetry collection Ota Benga Under My Mother&#039;s Roof, forthcoming from the University of South Carolina Press. His music has been performed in the US, the UK, Japan and the Caribbean. Most recently, he composed the music for the documentary, Hope: Living and Loving with HIV in Jamaica, which won an Emmy Award in 2009.
</itunes:summary>
		<itunes:author>Fogged Clarity</itunes:author>
		<itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit>
		<itunes:duration>23</itunes:duration>
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