Wednesday, March 25, 2015

John Pursch- Three Poems

Boiled to Starlight
Hefty paparazzi double cork
caboodle canker sores
to postulate in tertiary eaves
till drooping dorsal enmity
revisits homespun tendencies
of paltry banter sidecar kicks
and studio retracement.
He slopped his shoveled platitudes
down someone else’s scuppered earwig
for enlightened changeling portents,
slipped to mundane café stools
of hardback tachyon survivors,
mauled by preferential drones.
She lagged at his piebald slouch,
bot peeler mentality,
simian caseload exigencies
of spurting chromatic thrusts,
and looped till perilously sure
of exhortation rights in lucid
ambit’s prehistoric flax;
all in perpetrated bowers
of harbored flea repugnance,
boiled to starlight pegs before
invigorated calves could crave
another mighty hit of ropey
umpteen schooner fizz.
Oars lift foghorn retinues
to ancient briny whistle-stops
of tourist grime embargo holes
and dime store truculence
for catered helicopter sheep.
We feel rotating thuds
of ammunition dawdle by,
plopping in timed faults of birdshot,
singing trafficked overload in keyed
occurrence amputation.

Emblematic Frost
Slim vertebrae chunk
transvestite auctions
into piecewise vertical boxcars,
raising furtive galoshes
from shin-deep crepe saddles.
Pirouettes deploy
purloined measles
to comfort a barricaded hog,
spilling ordinary optics
across the grazing terrapin’s
statutory zeal.
Dacron toasters
cover embattled hostages
with celestial chemise,
touching on tresses
that shoulder cradles
for caterpillars.
Oomph begets
decanted mountains
in spewn syllabic syllabi,
morphing syncopated chattel’s
bumpy rationed symptoms,
spotting a disheveled turtle
crossing tunneled sequins.
Swallowing away,
footfalls plunge
against the gloaming triad,
plying semicolon flesh,
slurped aloft in tethered hands.
Subways whip the bylaw dusk
to Cornish bowler features,
shoveled into loosened
emblematic frost.

Smithereens of Aging
I hear bespectacled spackle merchants
singing on yodeling expeditions
for brotherly cloakroom autism,
counting down from pilloried nerds
in testy pestilence and stooping
sandwich tripwire moss sitars,
strung vibrantly to
schooner cabin ziggurats
in perspicacious whimsy.
She’s leafing carelessly along
an aisle of cheetah squares,
bling cones dangling for
trendy showpiece maple taps
beneath the blackened smithereens
of aging swirls in shallow core venison,
cruelly blogging circumstantially
in swine machinery’s cultish craze
confetti armadillo berth.
Hordes of pothole plungers
pilfer tarnation from scarab ants
in scruffy exhibitionist keyhole plaque,
ground delicately to
trusted meatball carrion whiz
by elven vase inhabitants
from drawing tomb synagogues
near sauteed Mylar breasts
of scaly votive Scotsmen.

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.

No comments:

Post a Comment