Solyanka 

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A glimpse of your puckered face,

 says this soup isn’t to your taste.

I boiled down the bones of my thoughts,

But it only enriched,

Fractured texts in gelatinous forms.

Amorphous gobs,

Tacky and corrosive.

      Gummy with punctuation.

I’m sorry,

   This pitch is too heavy to spoon,

I’ll just keep on stirring until something solidifies.

(c) Accidental Tentacles 2017

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