{"id":3155,"date":"2021-01-14T10:23:23","date_gmt":"2021-01-14T15:23:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/?p=3155"},"modified":"2021-01-14T10:26:57","modified_gmt":"2021-01-14T15:26:57","slug":"a-poem-for-a-thursday-115","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2021\/01\/14\/a-poem-for-a-thursday-115\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem for a Thursday #115"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/01\/fabrizio-verrecchia-bQxGg8Vx1Vc-unsplash-1024x657.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-3156\"\/><figcaption>Photo by <a href=\"https:\/\/unsplash.com\/@fabrizioverrecchia?utm_source=unsplash&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_content=creditCopyText\">Fabrizio Verrecchia<\/a> on <a href=\"https:\/\/unsplash.com\/s\/photos\/romance?utm_source=unsplash&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_content=creditCopyText\">Unsplash<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<div style=\"height:50px\" aria-hidden=\"true\" class=\"wp-block-spacer\"><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Stephen Dunn is an American poet who went to college on a basketball scholarship, worked in advertising, left to live in Spain and write a novel, and eventually ended up as a poet. He won the Pulitzer Prize for his volume, <em>Different Hours. <\/em>His poetry is described as being &#8220;concerned with the anxieties, fears, joys, and problems of how to coexist in the world with all those who are part of our daily lives.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div style=\"height:50px\" aria-hidden=\"true\" class=\"wp-block-spacer\"><\/div>\n\n\n\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">She pressed her lips to mind.\n     --a typo\n\nHow many years I must have yearned\nfor someone's lips against mind.\nPheromones, newly born, were floating\nbetween us. There was hardly any air.\n\nShe kissed me again, reaching that place\nthat sends messages to toes and fingertips,\nthen all the way to something like home.\nSome music was playing on its own.\n\nNothing like a woman who knows\nto kiss the right thing at the right time,\nthen kisses the things she's missed.\nHow had I ever settled for less?\n\nI was thinking this is intelligence,\nthis is the wisest tongue\nsince the Oracle got into a Greek's ear,\nspeaking sense. It's the Good,\n\ndefining itself. I was out of my mind.\nShe was in. We married as soon as we could. \n\nThe Kiss\nStephen Dunn<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Stephen Dunn is an American poet who went to college on a basketball scholarship, worked in advertising, left to live in Spain and write a novel, and eventually ended up as a poet. He won the Pulitzer Prize for his volume, Different Hours. His poetry is described as being &#8220;concerned with the anxieties, fears, joys, and problems of how to coexist in the world with all those who are part of our daily lives.&#8221; She pressed her lips to mind. &#8211;a typo How many years I must have yearned for someone&#8217;s lips against mind. Pheromones, newly born, were floating between us. There was hardly any air. She kissed me again, reaching that place that sends messages to toes and fingertips, then all the way to something like home. Some music was playing on its own. Nothing like a woman who knows to kiss the right thing at the right time, then kisses the things she&#8217;s missed. How had I ever settled for less? I was thinking this is intelligence, this is the wisest tongue since the Oracle got into a Greek&#8217;s ear, speaking sense. It&#8217;s the Good, defining itself. I was out of my mind. She was in. We married as soon as we could. The Kiss Stephen Dunn<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3156,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3155","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem-for-a-thursday"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3155","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3155"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3155\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3159,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3155\/revisions\/3159"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3156"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3155"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3155"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3155"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}