Thursday, July 23, 2015

John Pursch- Three Poems

Perfect Residential Hum

Somehow syntax schlepped
in followed stairwell cases,
poshly impecunious but stilled
to antebellum noonday fence reminders,
stoutly meant though carting asp accrual brunch
for parried guppies on chimerical facades
of dubious enteric slights.

Soapy dietary structures
coated bellyaching glow worms,
gushing quadrilaterals down
streaming thigh reduction plan illusions,
copping dilapidated sycophantic yearlings
for incoming courtoom nectar manicurists
on repellant mugshot spray.

Clouds kept quiet lookout,
overheard in sharply tuned intension’s trivial gentility,
spurting to the tambourine
of tousled shock roar diplomats
in lovely pestilential creases.

I coulda asked her name at any timely juncture,
held for waterskiing burp sword rip
of camper tour flight dream of mystic alleyway
to shuffleboard cockatoo bereavement neap,
but while away the living on and tethered tattered soul
in musical charade I moseyed socially in probability
of always perfect residential hum.

Surely arrogated irrigation twitches
surfaced in paired-off surfeit news,
knee-line receptacles becalmed
by thousand-pound orangutans
on shopping escapade toupee relief map opulence,
quelled gracefully by monsoon allegories.

Centrifugal Gallipoli

Mouse tart hullabaloo
immerses prone repeaters,
inner hairline overdose sedating
pensive airway manufacturers
of film mosquito tater crest
to tidal cave-in emulation mode
in human gnawing stereo grind
of trebled footprint dawdle.

Crossed to loosely hollow wobble,
punchy doormen deli hours pin a stellar jumper
onto trellis legs of swooping modal cubists,
plunking me squarely into knowledge paste removal.

Quartz extrudes
from precedent to bypass insignificance,
coddling lost ostriches,
huddling for the pumping fury
of primitive caftan dip.

Deprivation shuts corporeal pork chop stills
to lisping prim faucet heirs,
sidling through airport termagants,
stubbing donut gator bait
to kickstand whisker petroglyphs
on mortal retrograde captivity.

“Ole!” the gaucho peculates crouton eradication mist,
exonerating quintic salivation globs
imposed on oratory stumps.

He threw it whaled and tanned
to fully ellipsoidal crescent sunset techno fraud,
spinning teeming scrubber scenes in centrifugal Gallipoli,
backed by Whirled Whore Juan’s sturdy drenching.

Already Blurred

We all canoe down straits
of tropospheric topiary top-off ruins,
portage through bungled rush to trash bag bellows
spewing sacred flare gun mist
in sparks of semi-arid hitching posture insects,
crawling at ten-pin amateur hour siphon aid
brigade church nautical imbibement seminar repeat.

Microwaved curry pops in frazzled dome-tree canopy,
sliding softly into coarse dimensional approval affirmations
of youthfully embodied courting pets,
along improper leeward grunge arrangement elegies
sprung cowering in shafted bibliographies of ancient carriers.

Watered up to ewer horizons,
sorrow oars negate espousal pooling darts
with bioflavonoids and sternly populated mead erasure,
carding cistern hyacinths
in guided snub-nose shotgun counterfeits
of girl emancipation grillwork fenestration.

Deeply convolved rheumatic palaver
prates on lonely flag post shelve departure,
grating into finding feather cheese portrayal’s
gulf of laggard next-of-con,
galoots untangled for ecstatic island perjury.

She mesmerized entire nations,
witnessing atonal swap
of bodily impacted sidearm teeth
on soupy cast in siren author tuple-turvy,
dunking canker crust immersed
already blurred too often
where or hen-pecked ropey oats
conceal erratic homers.

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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