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Sophia 1d
Summer used to be torture
hours of hiding behind my beach towel
days of starving myself to look good in a bikini

During the hot season I'd make myself small
hiding away in corners
in dark shadows out of sight

But now my voice does not shrink
I stand tall with pride
in my swimming costume
Now my biggest concern
is the sun burns I may get
neth jones Jul 8
jellied air                                
and bunged grey clouds    
conducted  along a stream
an overhead burthen
they curl in on themselves  
a lace of internal tension
06/07/25
Steel pan in roadside dirt,
just beyond Exit 11: Quartzsite,
sun bouncing off like a flare.

Handle loose, rim dented,
but not ruined;
still whole enough.

It felt like one I swung
at Tomaso’s,
sweating
through the rush,
that night
we plated sixty covers
in under an hour.

Me, this pan,
were used
the way hard things are:
oiled, scrubbed,
flame-kissed and blackened.
Something thick stuck once,
then let go.

I lifted it,
right hand curved
around the handle
as though it never left.
Some things remember you
even when you forget yourself.

I set it in the backseat,
beside the blanket and bag.
thought I’d clean it up,
tighten the handle,
set it on flame,
hang it by a stove again.

I don’t believe in ghosts,
but I believe in steel,
in things that hold the heat
and give it back to you.
Kernel of this poem resurfaced from 2004. Driving the 10 freeway from LA to PHX.
Steve Page Jul 1
The coy moon left us fumbling
wandering in the sleepless warmth
transformed by night sweats
and wet despair
into fractious infants crying
for relief from the night fires.

Douse me now!
City heat ain't fun.
neth jones Jun 25
every day is runny                                   
hungry erogenous wounds                    
nuzzling  boobing  and bursting
and then healing   only to expand        
                       in gasps and searches
billowing open gills  the being is expended
but the self erupting  and the heat
and the ***** health vulnerability
it doesn’t stop and weather beats heat
battery builds in the concrete
and the others glide in light drapes
and daily life and a clean work uniform            
and frequent showers                                
                 and confused doctors notes
can’t disguise the revolting releases                  
             and paffing of diluted pheromones
and the rabid sweating and revolving motions
and rapid incoherences                                
                            and a collapsed posture
    inside     i am a fizzing fist of decay
date of original 22/06/25
The heat is irritating,
So never argue under a blistering sun,
Though you shouldn’t wait until streets are iced over,
Rage will freeze into cold, logical things.
Tear water freezing in between,
In the kind of way that makes you miss the rain,
The steam rolling off an anguished face.
When there was heat and humidity,
But no rainbow,
A little too much of something broke the recipe.
It’s hitting 100 degrees in Rochester today, pieces of me are melting.
Nigdaw Jun 22
winter's melancholy cold
as we fry in Satanic heat
a Hell of our own making

we cut the earth and made her bleed
for greed and war and hate and waste
32 degrees today.
MetaVerse May 29
My ****'s wet
With buttsweat,
My *******
With nutsweat.
I bust ***
With swamp ***
That bubbles
With swamp gas.

The cuckoo's
A-singin';
The bees are
A-stingin;
The thunders
A-drummin;
The sumers
Icumen.
Maria Apr 12
It’s stuffily. The heat’s compressing my temples.
There’s no place to go. Summer’s in power.
I can’t sleep at all. Insomnia’s hurting my eyes.
It’s like I won’t sleep until the early hours.

All windows are opened, but there’s no breeze.
Oh, how long this night is dragging on!
I remember you said “Bye” to me someday
And just went off somewhere, not cared on…

It’s stuffily. It’s sleepless. I want to drink.
My eyes are like two all-fired huge *****.
You thought I’d be crying and begging in tears.
And I’m so tired of you and your rancors…
This poem is autobiographical in many ways.
Thank you very much for reading this poem! 💖
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