{"id":25730,"date":"2016-08-13T23:03:51","date_gmt":"2016-08-14T03:03:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=25730"},"modified":"2016-08-13T23:03:51","modified_gmt":"2016-08-14T03:03:51","slug":"fifteen-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2016\/08\/fifteen-2\/","title":{"rendered":"FIFTEEN"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>The alley has gone to hell, garages belching<br \/>\nrobot grunge and failed steampunk rust.<br \/>\nIn between, a green sprawl of pumpkins<br \/>\nand watermelons lines the fence<br \/>\nand spills over the tops of compost bins.<br \/>\nAn Airstream that has seen too many rivers,<br \/>\naluminum foil peeling from yellowed windows,<br \/>\nis raised on cinderblocks to shade hunkering cats.<br \/>\nOver there, they\u2019ve given up on the bamboo,<br \/>\nor maybe given over, letting it claim the steps,<br \/>\nthe deck, the front door and back, the automatic<br \/>\nlight switch a feeble gesture of occupancy.<br \/>\nAnd Jim\u2019s fence, well, he probably <em>isn\u2019t<\/em><br \/>\ngoing to replace it this year, just prop it<br \/>\nagain and let it lean and sink deeper into the grass.<br \/>\nChickens mutter in their wire pens, narrating<br \/>\nthe afternoon as a single crow monitors<br \/>\nmy progress up the alley, swooping low and loud<br \/>\njust above my head. On these hot weekends,<br \/>\nwith the buzz of lawnmowers and the tock<br \/>\nof baseballs from the park, I like to remember<br \/>\nwinter, to recall the tree-cracking winds of November<br \/>\nand how the light shines upward from the ground<br \/>\non those rare and welcome days of snow. <\/p>\n<p>\u00a9 <a href=\"https:\/\/chocolateisaverb.wordpress.com\/\" target=\"_blank\">j.i. kleinberg<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The alley has gone to hell, garages belching robot grunge and failed steampunk rust. In between, a green sprawl of pumpkins and watermelons lines the fence and spills over the tops of compost bins. An Airstream that has seen too many rivers, aluminum foil peeling&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":721,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[1918,1319,107],"class_list":["post-25730","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","tag-alleys","tag-j-i-kleinberg","tag-summer"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/25730","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\/721"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=25730"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/25730\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":25749,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/25730\/revisions\/25749"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=25730"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=25730"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=25730"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}