Semisolids Poem by Noah Smits

Plasma-green river roll,
turgid as the hush fell;
hear—does it gush well?
Laggard old river-soul
wearied from the high tops:
hydrilla-lush swell,
stratified slurry-bowl,
heavy as a dumbbell,
blind as the Cyclops:
passing by, past control.
Fellow semisolid—
change finds you freely.
Look—see the animal!
It has gotten squalid.
See it ideally:
free-flowing, placable
by the great propulsion:
scarce would it weary!
Angst turned collapsible;
spite allowed expulsion.