Food Poetry- "The Physics of My Poetry"
Touching sips, feeling my words.
Thirsty for breaths from coconut ice.
Kissing wind, swimming oxygen.
Tasting the storms, tanning with wishes.
A tongue to sip with soft bites.
Drinks from other mouths in open society.
Thirsty hungry for gifts as a target.
Shaking my head, whispers of a roar.
A waft for tears I surf in.
Unwrapping straws, cola in a king’s size.
Finding familiar crowns for the sprites.
Hot, cold, warm bubbles.
Carbonation exhaustion.
Sweat to refill, skin to appeal.
Waiting for hot tea, sinking drunk.
Dining ideas, seating art.
A cough for a swallow, the revenge of peace.
Singing with a sneeze, heat to the freeze.
Reading names for better signs.
A big gulp of language, poison to spit out.
Gasping emotions, brittle to sympathy.
Knowing the flavors of general teeth.
Masking awareness, dripping passion by fire that’s gone.
Chomping foam with Pepsi-cream and Moxie-cherry.
Tender forks to gentle knifes.
Philosophy to plate, doused with ideas.
Sprinkles to sparkles, smooch with a legal curse.
Giving names to fingers and painting words.
Buying sizes, squeezing citrus over lucky roku fish.
Pushing plastic, twisting turns.
I’m a midget in a cupboard of doughnuts.
Journals can’t remember me.
I’d like to date songbirds in a cloud by the Amazon.
There’s a cure for a kiss, sips of a breath.
My sounds fall like leaves because I don’t see them.
Memories are clipped, zipped with my thirst.
Dollars have drops, pennies are wet.
I have debit for credit with no credit at all.
Cheese has strings, bubbles are weak.
There’s mountainous moisture in a little blood.
There’s light, there’s diet, there’s zero for a hero.
I’m too much chocolate and it’s curious to hide.
There’s a tail for a drink, a tale for a drink, and caffeine forms.
Coffee surprises me, tea remains free.
I’m freezing-cooking, burning coldness to others.
Shyness to materials, strength in materialism.
I share cups, fair mixes with a gaseous spare.
Tapping lips, whisking eyes.
A melting pot, the ice-wine of my European graduations.
Too numb for bones, with bones for bones and wishing more bones.
I kick numbness with a stick and wish for a call.
I tie my melody with the harmony of irritations.
Bottles become ships, ships become candles.
I try enthusiasm with a toothpick.
I guess you can say my mouth is food.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Food
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