{"id":145,"date":"2022-12-27T16:01:45","date_gmt":"2022-12-27T21:01:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/?p=145"},"modified":"2022-12-27T16:01:45","modified_gmt":"2022-12-27T21:01:45","slug":"ed28","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/ed28\/","title":{"rendered":""},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-large wp-image-113\" src=\"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/880\/2022\/12\/ed28-888x1024.png\" alt=\"A blackout poem made from a page of poetry by Emily Dickinson. Most of the poem is crossed out in black marker, with the remaining words forming a new poem. On the edges of the blacked out poem are black drawings of insects.\" width=\"740\" height=\"853\" srcset=\"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/880\/2022\/12\/ed28-888x1024.png 888w, https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/880\/2022\/12\/ed28-260x300.png 260w, https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/880\/2022\/12\/ed28-768x886.png 768w, https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/880\/2022\/12\/ed28-1331x1536.png 1331w, https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/880\/2022\/12\/ed28-940x1084.png 940w, https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/880\/2022\/12\/ed28-400x461.png 400w, https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/880\/2022\/12\/ed28.png 1737w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 740px) 100vw, 740px\" \/><\/p>\n<p><strong>By Nora Masters &#8217;26<\/strong> <a href=\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/norabellem\/\">@norabellem<\/a><\/p>\n<p>192<\/p>\n<p>IT was death<br \/>\ndead<br \/>\ntongue for noon.<br \/>\nfrost my flesh<br \/>\ncrawl<br \/>\nlike them all;<br \/>\norderly burial.<\/p>\n<p>my life<br \/>\nfitted<br \/>\nlike midnight<\/p>\n<p>tick stop<br \/>\nspace stares<br \/>\nOr<br \/>\nbeating ground.<\/p>\n<p>like chaos,<br \/>\nwithout a chance<br \/>\nTo justify despair.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>By Nora Masters &#8217;26 @norabellem 192 IT was death dead tongue for noon. frost my flesh crawl like them all; orderly burial. my life fitted like midnight tick stop space stares Or beating ground. like chaos, without a chance To justify despair.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5567,"featured_media":113,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-145","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-pages"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/145","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5567"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=145"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/145\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":146,"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/145\/revisions\/146"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/113"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=145"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=145"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.smith.edu\/emilydashes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=145"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}