Friday, October 7, 2011

2 poems || John Pursch

Portents of a Triad

Whose albedo rose to tender
a meek, unwavering plethora
of high, explosive catamarans,
slipping soiled and generous
along the fractal divan?

Bells toll the overgrown ransom
with terpsichorean tumbleweeds,
excoriating the newly pungent,
beaten paths and sandbars
of another harlot's repose.

Simply selected, a hambone lands
just one strike short of a vacuous plenitude,
capsizing in heaps of corn and wrenches,
strewn with defective manure.

Whose mannerisms prompted
the crepe to serenade a hemlock vendor
with tartar and bygones,
all for the hamper's latent mead?

When capsules blend and milk
the corner dowager's fickle yachtsmen,
dallying portents of a triad
will call for dangling specimens,
in spadices and nocturnal missives.

Rippling, Ergonomic Specials

In eminent oafs, we find
a nasal predilection for soft and stultifying butter,
pressed into fine mattresses of cool, analogous butane,
fingered with a jelly roll's pleasing scream.

Warm deluges clip the gargling embryo's
fluid mention of times gone cosmic,
spatter a fabric of need with quibbling Nerf pencils,
and strafe a cowboy's plentiful unguent
with toiling moon patrols, miffing every
basement queen's filibustering rotunda.

Amped on rippling, ergonomic specials,
a boardroom janitor heals the nattering minions
in seven cities of sheer delight,
reducing the urban laughter
to a smooth marble of mild intent.

No comments:

Post a Comment