{"id":68795,"date":"2020-06-27T17:25:55","date_gmt":"2020-06-27T21:25:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=68795"},"modified":"2020-06-27T17:25:55","modified_gmt":"2020-06-27T21:25:55","slug":"skay-hour-9","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2020\/06\/skay-hour-9\/","title":{"rendered":"Skay Hour 9"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">An exhausted afternoon sun strikes <strong><em>lethargy<\/em><\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">In a stifling thick air of the summer <strong><em>cottage<\/em><\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">A tired fan groans as it makes yet another <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">Circle midair in the dense <strong><em>heat<\/em><\/strong>.<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">Fumes rise from the <strong><em>bottle<\/em> <\/strong>of need<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">Putrid, rancid, and plain old <strong><em>strange<\/em><\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">My head dances a tribal ritual,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">A <strong><em>porridge<\/em> <\/strong>of unrest, tears and obituaries<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">An escape atop wings to a cool paradise<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400\">I raise my glass and down the bitter drink.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>An exhausted afternoon sun strikes lethargy In a stifling thick air of the summer cottage A tired fan groans as it makes yet another Circle midair in the dense heat. Fumes rise from the bottle of need Putrid, rancid, and plain old strange My head&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1404,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11,441],"tags":[3597,2376],"class_list":["post-68795","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem","category-poetry-prompt-responses","tag-2020halfmarathon","tag-hour9"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/68795","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\/1404"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=68795"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/68795\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":68824,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/68795\/revisions\/68824"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=68795"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=68795"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=68795"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}