{"id":97081,"date":"2021-06-26T20:17:39","date_gmt":"2021-06-27T00:17:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=97081"},"modified":"2021-06-27T03:33:01","modified_gmt":"2021-06-27T07:33:01","slug":"blueridge-mountains-no-judgment","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2021\/06\/blueridge-mountains-no-judgment\/","title":{"rendered":"Blueridge Mountains, no judgment"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>There\u2019s a glade just<br \/>\nnorth of Brevard, where no lights<br \/>\ncan reach, where no vehicle<br \/>\ncan reach, where no fear<br \/>\ncan reach. There\u2019s a pump<br \/>\nthat draws just<br \/>\nabove frozen. There\u2019s a short<br \/>\ngentle dirt cliff with good<br \/>\nthrowing rocks. There\u2019s a<br \/>\npublic bathroom that is just<br \/>\na toilet seat over a deep hole.<br \/>\nThere is a stream three feet<br \/>\nat the deepest point. There is<br \/>\na narrow shore with narrow sand,<br \/>\nslick rocks to slip across. There<br \/>\nis green. There is sparkle<br \/>\nin the flow, mineral visible but<br \/>\ntoo spare without sun. There<br \/>\nis a campsite that is just<br \/>\nbeaten down earth. There<br \/>\nis a fire pit, mostly, that is just<br \/>\na ring of stones. There is a<br \/>\nwooden footbridge stained green<br \/>\nwith moss and algae, sturdy<br \/>\nfor another twelve years. <\/p>\n<p>There is a woman<\/p>\n<p>There is a woman with her head just<br \/>\nunder the flowing pump, left hand<br \/>\npressing against the rusted grate.<br \/>\nFor balance. There is a woman<br \/>\nstepping across creek bed rocks.<br \/>\nThere is a woman laying on the narrow<br \/>\nshore with the narrow sand against<br \/>\nher back, her feet just<br \/>\nin the unnamed water. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>There\u2019s a glade just north of Brevard, where no lights can reach, where no vehicle can reach, where no fear can reach. There\u2019s a pump that draws just above frozen. There\u2019s a short gentle dirt cliff with good throwing rocks. There\u2019s a public bathroom that&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1119,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-97081","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/97081","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\/1119"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=97081"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/97081\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":97093,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/97081\/revisions\/97093"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=97081"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=97081"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=97081"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}