<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[RSS Feed]]></title><description><![CDATA[RSS Feed]]></description><link>https://ecency.com</link><image><url>https://ecency.com/logo512.png</url><title>RSS Feed</title><link>https://ecency.com</link></image><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Thu, 27 Aug 2026 13:59:03 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://ecency.com/@ranju/rss" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title><![CDATA[Monkey Slaughter]]></title><description><![CDATA[The bark of apple trees, injured by nails, drip stem juices. Their heads swim in smoky dizziness. Agitating monkeys are flung down to the grassy floor. Bloodred tongues roll them up. Constellations approach]]></description><link>https://ecency.com/@ranju/monkey-slaughter</link><guid isPermaLink="true">https://ecency.com/@ranju/monkey-slaughter</guid><category><![CDATA[poem]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[ranju]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Fri, 22 Dec 2017 13:20:39 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Poem]]></title><description><![CDATA[On a wooden bench, the little girl was playing with her cat. “There is this thing dear.” The little boy said. “Not the love thing again.” The girl said and the cat smirked. “There is a poem I wrote. It]]></description><link>https://ecency.com/@ranju/the-poem</link><guid isPermaLink="true">https://ecency.com/@ranju/the-poem</guid><category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[ranju]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Fri, 22 Dec 2017 12:49:30 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://i.ecency.com/p/7258xSVeJbKnFEnBwjKLhL15SoynbgJKpQxRd1uowE27xbHdFCzn2mbJp5BQZmHjpo3f44JKwBtMA9YNuzXtkroWLL9JNhLwZcCC5DgXEWAvLfxgWiZniegu4BX8MGbvWYLjETSPJ4jE6?format=match&amp;mode=fit" length="0" type="false"/></item></channel></rss>