Poetry Soup Talks, Ow, Hot

Hot Soup talk is the pressure cooker's son! Sweet derth of wicked tallows and wipped addicted frothing spider tounges! But, All Poets are not the same. They are born and then multiply regressivily complexifying claims to: love loss mother and father who cannot love or loved enough but find behind them a second lack. This other lack that follows, that fills with words and signal flares a homage to trauma, to enjoyed pain, to futures cut from knowing what can lack in love.