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	<title>Ruekblog</title>
	<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog</link>
	<description>Poems, occasional prose, and some pictures by David Ruekberg.</description>
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		<title>30: Why I Love Uncle Vanya</title>
		<description><![CDATA[I love Uncle Vanya because he tries so hard, and I know what that&#8217;s like. I love Uncle Vanya because he has handled both sheaves and accounts and holds no enmity for any man who knows how to turn his hand to hard work. I love Uncle Vanya because he can mimic the man strangling [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog/?p=318</link>
			</item>
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		<title>28: Dear Daniel</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Dear Daniel &#8212; I&#8217;m too drunk to make sense just now, or I&#8217;d call you on the phone. My tongue is clotted. My brain temporarily bedded down. I think I&#8217;ve never understood your poems until now. No, I know it, not think. In manuscript, hung by clothespins from wires in a basement in the foreskin [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog/?p=316</link>
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		<title>27: Knives</title>
		<description><![CDATA[You cried over the knives because, unsure of how to thank your boyfriend&#8217;s parents for them, you waited for inspiration. Days passed, your little boy&#8217;s father cut his beautiful long hair without your permission, you gave three free treatments, and the electric bill was higher than ever. Do you ask your boyfriend for more help [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog/?p=313</link>
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		<title>26: Capitulation</title>
		<description><![CDATA[The well is nearly dry. At the bottom a foot or two of water. The pipe sucks up mostly sand and dirt. In the mirror at the bottom my face is only a quivering shadow, the sky behind it clear but circumscribed. I climb down with a bucket and scoop it a quarter full. The [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog/?p=312</link>
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		<title>24: Into line</title>
		<description><![CDATA[I hate it when people chew. I really do. And I hate it when they breathe. I wish they would leave. I like it when you clean your nails. It never fails to make me feel like life has a purpose. That I&#8217;m not worthless. I hate it when people disagree with the President or [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog/?p=311</link>
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		<title>23: Two-twelve</title>
		<description><![CDATA[The walls are cluttered with paper and the chalkboard isn&#8217;t written on that much. The smell of burnt coffee mixes with the dust of the classics. The windows are half-blind. In spite of it all, my pen is a pretty kind of blue, and squishy in the middle. I&#8217;d like to give it to my [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog/?p=307</link>
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		<title>21: -/-</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Little or nothing]]></description>
		<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog/?p=308</link>
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		<title>20: Haiku</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Half a mile above us tons of airborne water play without thought or fear]]></description>
		<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog/?p=306</link>
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		<title>19: 2010</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Would you give all but food and shelter and the rapt attention of your parents for longer than a minute in trade for the roar and convenience of the gasoline engine and the irony of smoky coal firing your illumination? Your thumbs fly over the keypad, hungry for confirmation that your uniqueness is one of [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog/?p=305</link>
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		<title>16:  When holy men piss</title>
		<description><![CDATA[When holy men piss me off I drink lots of wine &#8212; good hangover cure]]></description>
		<link>http://www.poetry.restory.net/ruekblog/?p=303</link>
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