{"id":143685,"date":"2023-09-03T08:30:37","date_gmt":"2023-09-03T12:30:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=143685"},"modified":"2023-09-03T08:30:37","modified_gmt":"2023-09-03T12:30:37","slug":"stealing-lines","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2023\/09\/stealing-lines\/","title":{"rendered":"Stealing Lines"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>24<\/p>\n<p>Stealing Lines <\/p>\n<p>Hour 24 becomes<br \/>\nthe kaleidoscope poem<br \/>\nthat I couldn&#8217;t write in hour 17.<br \/>\nThe light rays penetrating the canopy<br \/>\nbecome the spokes of the kaleidoscope<br \/>\nturning fractals of<br \/>\ngreen<br \/>\nyellow<br \/>\nwarmth<br \/>\non the forest floor.<br \/>\nAs I write the last poem<br \/>\nthe cat puddles on my legs.<br \/>\nI feel the release of the pieces<br \/>\nof pens as my mind starts to shut down.<br \/>\nIn a parallel universe my poems<br \/>\nwould all be crystal clear and understandable<br \/>\nnot a surreal morass of inertia.<br \/>\nI run away into the circus of minds<br \/>\nthat are trying to stay awake.<br \/>\nI can do a full marathon<br \/>\nbecause I am retired<br \/>\nbut do they make sense?<br \/>\nNo routine is scary but maybe one day<br \/>\nwill make sense.<br \/>\nWords are a blizzard.<br \/>\nI gather music and images.<br \/>\nI disconnect logic.<br \/>\nI hope there will be colors.<br \/>\nThe cat purrs me back awake.<br \/>\nI write about turquoise bucket lists.<br \/>\nIn my dream poem<br \/>\ntrees have teeth in early morning.<br \/>\nI fade in the 24th hour<br \/>\nIs my cat real or myth,<br \/>\ndo I feel his weight?<br \/>\nI hope there are clouds today<br \/>\nI will drink iced tea.<br \/>\nThere are two crows but are elephants real? Creativity is a canyon.<br \/>\nI disolve myself in the 24th hour into a mine fog.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>24 Stealing Lines Hour 24 becomes the kaleidoscope poem that I couldn&#8217;t write in hour 17. The light rays penetrating the canopy become the spokes of the kaleidoscope turning fractals of green yellow warmth on the forest floor. As I write the last poem the&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3817,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-143685","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","category-poetry-prompts"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/143685","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3817"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=143685"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/143685\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":143700,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/143685\/revisions\/143700"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=143685"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=143685"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=143685"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}