Friday, May 13, 2016

John Pursch- A Poem

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

Solitary Grace

They exit in silence, reverent. Liquid pours, echoes in the next room. Shoes on tile, wooden shuffles, a hand so still, so quiet waits in scratched head recompense, sifting an unknowing. Now the lights are dimmed, the bell tolls six, and heat resolves to coupled footfalls, heels on stone, further insignificance in somewhat veiled validity of presence.

Slowly the desert is transformed, returning to its solitary grace, emptied into full embrace of seamless unity unborn, surround of cyclic circumvention taking human thread line consciousness to subsequent repose, fitful caricature of mortal symbolism.

The tendency to cleave, departing as a way of surviving the intensity of sudden cheer, unanimity in reckless joy, wonder spilling off elusive catacombs of tethered theoretical release in pointed false congruity of animated urgency to pausing causal idiom in synchrony with modern lapse to sketched historic framework.

Memories perspire eidetic influx jewels of flushed encircled gist, filtering another toll for eaves of dewdrop handholds fleeting, thoroughly in tandem. Crimson and imperious, the sun descends to cloud contusion clock of stippled enfilade in stained galactic tense of raw temporal spin.


  1. Solitary grace
    singular unearned favor
    Grace has kept us safe thus far
    Streams in the desert.