Sky Soup
The birds
Cutthrough
The blue—
Thick, azure porridge
Of the astral plane.
Steam building,
Billowing in
Cumulonimbus clouds
Blowing in thhhhecool front.
The aluminum wings
Of an airplane
Tear a ____
Through it allllllllllllllllll,
` The stew drains simmering—
A whirlpool bent around the jagged edge
Of the sunbeams emanating
From the soup
We call a sky,
It all mixes
With alphabet letters
And faces
And animals
And images
That we'd like to think we seeeeeeeee
But who knows?
It just spills from the bowl
I call my head.
Quench
My thirst throat,
Parched of nature's saliva,
The water,
Brain juice
Stream of consciousness
Pouring down my esophageal tube
Parachuting.
I'm hungry
For something soothing
To sip up with my eyes.
I'm starving
Scrawny,
So the broth of stellar noodles drips in my empty gullet,
Churning in my stomach,
Squashing and squinching
Squeezing in my mind's canteen.
The ceruleandraping
Cascades
Crush My ocular nerve,
Foam wiping my white washed, subfuse pupils
Clean. Sky soup.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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