James Mills

A Few Degrees Of Heat

Poem by James Mills

A slope of rising road
gains on the pair of us -
forcing silence.
Dusty birds and drunken bees
seem dazzled and frustrated
in the grating heat.
Wings and feathers
weather the jagged day
in short bursts and slowly.
Our imaginations fail,
again, to summon cool times.

Summer aggravates.
Midges bite and die;
spent on your glistening skin.

Blisters bubble;
subcutaneous lakes of irritation
itching like the scumbled day.

Comments about A Few Degrees Of Heat by James Mills

  • Raynette Eitel (6/22/2005 5:12:00 PM)

    Very well done, James...but I don't know what scumbled means, either. I'm going straight to me dictionary.


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  • E. Nelson (5/18/2005 6:15:00 AM)

    This is burning, unsettling surrealism...it gets right down into my gut. I don't know meterless free-verse as well as I might, but this really does what a poem should.(Report)Reply

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  • Amberlee Carter (5/16/2005 10:20:00 AM)

    well, this is quite creative...I like it!(Report)Reply

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  • Laura Cummings (5/9/2005 6:36:00 AM)

    ooo i like :) Its defo original(Report)Reply

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Read poems about / on: weather, silence, summer, rose

Poem Submitted: Friday, May 6, 2005

Poem Edited: Friday, August 18, 2006