Saturday, July 11, 2015

John Pursch- Three Poems


Somehow none of us withstood
the blind accursed pleasure cramps
of keenly wrapped uncles,
flogging wet lumber grass
with internecine triads.

If lonely parakeets
emblazon silver faces
with impoverished miracles
of seaside denizen capitulation,
how far is whitecap homing dosage
from the underhanded chip of
impish sand trap numerology,
lost in blackened residues
of frosted nose cone

We know from common looks
how derogated colloquy
conspires to fuse an early wig
to pone hyena cooling pyres
of half a freakout’s
steep Aphasian humps,
peddling bidirectional
ciliated volition
as furious philosophy,
though meddling sap strictures
can never replace concrete
dictionary heirlooms of
impending meaning.

Dryadic icons mystify
the frozen self with
guard dog oratory
plunging Gothic apiaries
in fluid distal Appomattox,
delivering vets.

To Tender False Infinity

Semi-distant creak
of wooden carcass,
nearby pane of fluted glass,
chains of dawdling
doorstep dunes;
noon came and wandered,
treading shoddy ventricles
of burbled house-line stupor.

Flasks elided
cooly porous ginger
blown from lackey feints,
collapsing accordions
in towering furrows
of downtown catwalks,
elevated sighs, and
medical attendants.

Jungles pitched
eloping marrow
to oil incendiary vats,
fending off fallacious tarts
with worldly seaside
semaphores of sorbitol
and polyglot instantiation’s
bomb confusion scanner.

Freckled Into Silence

Hands sew pagination rights
to elbow grease gun luminaries,
fleshing into flushed impala strides
amid eternal migratory petulance
of village repeat trundling,
meant harmlessly for daylight.

Crepe fondue eludes
a snappily perspiring
tournament gorilla,
flapping swing set
arthroscopic ears
in steering wheel

Mania remains
in tactful grace,
belying ill cougar parts
of pantry linearity and
dour carafes of cob core
penitentiary injunctions,
poured slowly under redress.

Snow often appears this time of day,
wondering how slumber picks
its wizened whys from wherefore,
whimsy, and wan canonical fragrances
of my opiated cathedral.

Ether obtains another
row house trolley cry,
spinning tears to ductile crooner fees,
implying stiff recumbent trinkets.

Dice legitimizes spilt euphony,
sparely quipped at fluffy quantum cobbles,
stoned for tanned duration teasers,
freckled into silence.

John Pursch lives in Tucson, Arizona. His work has been nominated for Best of the Net and has appeared in many literary journals. A collection of his poetry, Intunesia, is available at Check out his experimental lit-rap video at He’s @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.

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