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	<title>D Anson Lee &#8211; Litbreak Magazine</title>
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	<description>No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. No Kings.</description>
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		<title>Clinic Hours, After Rain; Ouroboros at the Kitchen Table; Three Small Things I Carry; Pinball, or How the City Learns Its Edges; Sequence: Four Doors</title>
		<link>https://litbreak.com/clinic-hours-after-rain-ouroboros-at-the-kitchen-table-three-small-things-i-carry-pinball-or-how-the-city-learns-its-edges-sequence-four-doors/</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[D Anson Lee]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 26 Jan 2026 15:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
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					<description><![CDATA[The fluorescent hum remembers the night shift:
a blue ribbon of light between the blinds.]]></description>
		
		
		
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		<title>How I Write</title>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[D Anson Lee]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 26 Jan 2026 14:45:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Creative Nonfiction]]></category>
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					<description><![CDATA[I write poems the way some people keep a notebook by the phone: not to capture everything, but to be ready when something important calls. Most of my poems begin with a moment that refuses to stay quiet: a small human exchange, a remembered voice, an image that lingers longer than it should. I don’t chase ideas so much as I wait for them to return, shaped by time and attention.]]></description>
		
		
		
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