Mouth Feel (Read Aloud)

Crinkle cut carbuncle nectar drops;
trapping, in sapping amber,
an echo collated to completion.

Words dripped down around
distinct intersecting steeples;
cascading scales of crackling cackles could
wonder and wither away.

Carmine curiosities squeeze in
tandem toward narrow awnings; yearning
after some semblance of reality.

Blithe, babbling
tulips rustled up simply
for the sake of
sound and feel.

by Erik Shinker