Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Three Poems by John Pursch

Tapping Through Whales
Mulch depends on futuristic cameos,
stung to swilling punchbowl lye,
capturing esophageal songs
with bayou relevance.
Gauzy smiles convey
a newborn sandwich,
muddying the quartermaster’s
impious glare with smoldering
hyena breath.
Ribbed idolatry seeps upstream,
caching sallow victories
in staid executors,
mumbling freely over
cummerbund crouton torts.
Spittle flaws the evening
gadget’s turnkey pylon,
rescinding stalled grunge
whenever ties are diced
to sauteed chicken ease.
Periodic swing sets
dote on cloned effrontery,
mixing latter-day missives
with fusillades of dungeon ears,
tapping through whales.
Horsehide Clouds
Spent couples equipped
with spinal trapezes
swallow diverse deities,
pulsating in dude ranch tresses.
Cowering cauterizers
sizzle and graft,
streaming yesteryear’s
blonde quotations
to mimed styrene polyps.
Minors dignify the proscenium,
cooling out in flowing caissons,
bobbled below horsehide clouds.
Rotation, gyration,
a nearby speck of motive illusion,
subsiding to repeal a tacky drill bit’s
futile impression,
flaunting muffled antics
behind evolving barks…
The Deskbound Stork
Teething rungs impel alluvial mendicants to vinyl treasure silos, training naked handrail sliders to speak of trolling pasty hounds in saturated sheets. Oddly complicit authorities indemnify a fealty bowl, stipulating redundant whines when mangled oxen wither hourly.
Debentures mature in ripened shaving garb, pin the schlock on wigged inflatables, and undermine colonic highballs, cheering on supercilious magpies till defrocked talcum bulbs surrender moot turbulence to incantation feet.
Evenly bobbled whiskey sippers tan in merciless canisters, hinged on outboard egret knees, softened up by polar monomaniacs from similar proxies. Lingual isthmus tirades bark and sniffle clockwise, collaring a taskbar’s cashew craving, stiffening in the droning fawn’s mule team fantasies of cardboard tears.
“I am umbilical,” asserts the deskbound stork, clarifying deferred junctions in time-gash strips, pressed from newsprint grotto chasms, filmy and denatured by depilatory drams.

John Pursch lives in Tucson, Arizona. His work has appeared in many literary journals and was recently nominated for the Sundress Best of the Net 2012 Anthology. His most recent book, Intunesia, is available in paperback from White Sky Books at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/whiteskybooks . He's @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.

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