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	<title>Erik Austin Deerly &#187; Poetry</title>
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	<link>http://erikdeerly.com</link>
	<description>Erik Austin Deerly, artist, composer and educator</description>
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		<title>Dear Harvey</title>
		<link>http://erikdeerly.com/archives/159</link>
		<comments>http://erikdeerly.com/archives/159#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 18 Oct 2008 19:35:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Erik</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[death]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[little bang]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://erikdeerly.com/?p=159</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I went to your memorial last Thursday
but you were not there
in your place was an old photo
you on your horse
full head of poorly cut hair
accidentally hip.
The woman spoke about energy, afterlife
and rejoining your ancestors
while we bowed our heads
you reached into your holster
drew your revolver
and took pot shots.
If you didn&#8217;t want your bronzed baby booties displayed [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="noindent">I went to your memorial last Thursday<br />
but you were not there<br />
in your place was an old photo<br />
you on your horse<br />
full head of poorly cut hair<br />
accidentally hip.</p>
<p class="noindent">The woman spoke about energy, afterlife<br />
and rejoining your ancestors<br />
while we bowed our heads<br />
you reached into your holster<br />
drew your revolver<br />
and took pot shots.</p>
<p class="noindent">If you didn&#8217;t want your bronzed baby booties displayed in public<br />
you should&#8217;ve mentioned it while you had the chance, cowboy.</p>
<p class="post-info">Published in <em>little bang, Volume 1, Number 1, 2008</em></p>
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		<title>My Last Visit</title>
		<link>http://erikdeerly.com/archives/44</link>
		<comments>http://erikdeerly.com/archives/44#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 30 Dec 2006 09:42:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Erik</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[death]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[little bang]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Cold meat covered in thin white cotton.
One foot protrudes.
Mouth agape, drools silently.
Teeth removed, stored neatly on the roll-away table.
As if you might get warm,
or wake up and need to chew.
Sourness—a look or a feeling?  I&#8217;m
not sure. Mislabeled television controls.
I&#8217;ll see what I can do to fix this
error.
Published in little bang, Volume 1, Number 1, [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="noindent">Cold meat covered in thin white cotton.<br />
One foot protrudes.<br />
Mouth agape, drools silently.<br />
Teeth removed, stored neatly on the roll-away table.</p>
<p class="noindent">As if you might get warm,<br />
or wake up and need to chew.<br />
Sourness—a look or a feeling?  I&#8217;m<br />
not sure.<span style="padding-right: 3em"> </span>Mislabeled television controls.<br />
I&#8217;ll see what I can do to fix this<br />
error.</p>
<p class="post-info">Published in <em>little bang, Volume 1, Number 1, 2008</em></p>
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		<item>
		<title>Kent</title>
		<link>http://erikdeerly.com/archives/45</link>
		<comments>http://erikdeerly.com/archives/45#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 05 Mar 2006 09:42:25 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Erik</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Word]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[culture]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[itunes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[little bang]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[old age]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[school]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[time]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[I love you, I told him
Meals on wheels didn&#8217;t come &#8217;til three o&#8217;clock
He&#8217;s pissed
I love you too, he said, trying to swallow it back down
*

Rewind, thirty years:
Leisure suit and perm aside,
Dad&#8217;s never changed
Trouble with women, he says, they just want to be happy
He never remarried
Thanksgiving with my Mom—Christmas with Dad
I came home after college
He was [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="noindent"><em>I love you</em>, I told him<br />
Meals on wheels didn&#8217;t come &#8217;til three o&#8217;clock<br />
He&#8217;s pissed<br />
<em>I love you too</em>, he said, trying to swallow it back down</p>
<p>*<br />
<em><br />
Rewind, thirty years:</em><br />
Leisure suit and perm aside,<br />
Dad&#8217;s never changed<br />
<em>Trouble with women,</em> he says, <em>they just want to be happy</em></p>
<p class="noindent">He never remarried<br />
Thanksgiving with my Mom—Christmas with Dad<br />
I came home after college<br />
He was an old man</p>
<p>*</p>
<p class="noindent">He reads glossy magazines<br />
Schools me on pop culture<br />
On his 78th birthday he asked for <em>Moby</em><br />
Though lately he prefers punk</p>
<p class="noindent">When I was young, I had this dream my dad was shot<br />
<span style="padding-right: 3em"> </span>in the chest with a cannonball<br />
He came home in this dream; I could see right through<br />
<span style="padding-right: 3em"> </span>the big round hole<br />
The wound was clean, as if he were made of cookie dough<br />
I couldn&#8217;t bring myself to touch him</p>
<p>*</p>
<p class="noindent">Gave my dad a hug the other day<br />
We repaired his iTunes<br />
Picked over cold lunchmeat<br />
Snapped a few pictures, said goodbye</p>
<p class="noindent">Three days later—snail-mail from Dad<br />
Scrawled across the back of a carefully folded article<br />
About Balinese Hip Hop:<br />
<em>I love you, too</em></p>
<p class="post-info">Published in <em>little bang, Volume 1, Number 1, 2008</em></p>
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