"spung" poems
I learned upon arriving
In this sauna they call summer
That it becomes intolerable around July
We came to know it
As AC jumping weather
You know?
Jump from air conditioning
in the house
to AC in the car
then AC at the store
or in the mall
Can't stand to be outside
for more then a few moments
Or the melt down starts
You drip until you are soaked
And the air is so thick
with humidity
your lungs feel like a wet spung
No breeze
Everything sticks to you
The bugs
The dust
And all the ****
you touch
Why can't it be spring
All Summer?
Nice breezes
Highs in the seventies
The smell of new
Of awaking
Of green
Of LIFE
Six weeks gone
Trapped within
The AC
Bottled up
And
At least six more to go
Should be a law against
Such a thing
Mean while
We are
Sufferin' a Sizzelin' Summer
AGAIN!
Jul 31, 2010
Jul 31, 2010 at 8:38 AM UTC
The gas can can't stay in the car or the tents,
So it stays by the post where the lantern is hung.
It cools in the shade and the vapors condense,
'til the flat sides cave in,
And the gas can goes "Spung".
Then the sun slides around, and warms it anew.
The pressure increases like an inflating lung,
'til the roiling and boiling gaseous stew
Pops out the hot metal
And the gas can goes "Spung".
The day settles out and the night does abide,
The fire burns to embers and the last song is sung.
The wind in the holler cools down the tin sides,
The pressure drops off,
And the gas can goes "Spung".
Then, late in the night when the moon shines above,
And none but the whip-poor-will raises his tongue,
The silence is heavy and the air does not move,
No reason calls,
But the gas can goes "Spung".
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC