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	<title>Zócalo Public SquareThe Drunk &#8211; Zócalo Public Square</title>
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	<description>Ideas Journalism With a Head and a Heart</description>
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		<title>The Drunk</title>
		<link>https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2012/10/19/the-drunk/chronicles/poetry/</link>
		<comments>https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2012/10/19/the-drunk/chronicles/poetry/#respond</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 19 Oct 2012 07:01:12 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>by Jeff Oaks</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jeff Oaks]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://new.zocalopublicsquare.org/?p=39145</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>The wind is sharpening its knives<br /> on my father come in the dark<br /> toward home, half wreckage,<br /> half-bear in Christ’s cold garden.<br /> His tongue is quit, tied,<br /> flat: the journey shakes<br /> in his steering. Father, father,<br /> it is too far to the river.<br /> Whatever you are,<br /> I didn’t know. I couldn’t.</p>
<p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2012/10/19/the-drunk/chronicles/poetry/">The Drunk</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org">Zócalo Public Square</a>.</p>
]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><span style="line-height: 1.8;">The wind is sharpening its knives<br />
on my father come in the dark<br />
toward home, half wreckage,<br />
half-bear in Christ’s cold garden.<br />
His tongue is quit, tied,<br />
flat: the journey shakes<br />
in his steering. Father, father,<br />
it is too far to the river.<br />
Whatever you are,<br />
I didn’t know. I couldn’t.</span></p>
<p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2012/10/19/the-drunk/chronicles/poetry/">The Drunk</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org">Zócalo Public Square</a>.</p>
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