texts that change the conscious parameters of literature, both for readers and writers. from a different angle than these, r.p. blackmur adds: 'poetry: [is] ...language so twisted and posed in a form that...it adds to the stock of available reality.' now that blogger has included the ability to reproduce fonts more accurately, alpha-numeric visual-poetry will be welcomed for consideration. formerly edited by peter ganick. send texts to matt margo at firstname.lastname@example.org for consideration...
Friday, May 18, 2012
3 texts || John Pursch
Lone Dominion Glue
Calmed by a floating dove’s exiled creak, mechanical crusts impinge on dedicated tufts, inuring our blended bolts to aching ocular oafs in patent office despair. Arguing for extended irrigation, Dutch carvers meander into green syllabic posturing, shielding inferential damsels from turrets of peace. Known to all worldly oaths, a segue to trailhead mantras heats the closet’s odalisque, conferring inches of folding ethane on iterated rungs. Clamped tower chatter blunts the unheard buffoon’s crimson taunts, spinning fodder wellspring charts for voyeuristic ploys. Plangent towns break into arcs of roadhouse moans, emptying scalar reputations into scientific ambition. Queries flip between astral cheering squads, flying effusive candor into intrepid hours, squandering an entrée’s destiny. Welling up with torn, macular ooze, eyelids wheedle the very sane immersion prow’s heirloom lullaby from striations of a clenched detainee, ushering in a downtime transit’s eastern loon. Dented pluralities attain novel grains of rinsed beer, riding healthy waves to trimmed tectonic pools. Triadic insect spoilers, unborn and weaned of incoming salt, petrify an ignited aerial landscape, laughing in horizontal ballrooms of martial thumping. Antithetical card games ensue, drooling massive piles of hexagonal interns, smiling at a grated ouster’s snapshot hypo. Elks intone a kegger’s pasteurized effluent, resolving into lone dominion glue.
Serving a wishing well’s coastal fraction, cloaked electronic mist urges the sentient anchor to honk at endgame healers, snapping airborne adjutants with wingman glue. Raised knees sport nuclear cordons, simmering and crying into an archway’s archaic pleat, stumping for alimentary plumage. Foiled bettors clear the deltoid fridge for junior heating pads, flashing helms of darned ether. Deeply chartered all-stars fry on the spansule, hailing from ownership pundits in a laudatory entryway’s pointed crochet fair. Cattle endear looping rescue cousins to catering trotters, shifting inexact melons, amplified with rallied gourds. Wingspans bump ashore, trailing plastic noses, heaving enteric beauty corks for friendly moat repairmen. Hallowed daisies cleanse a sprung orderly, dripping blurred captions into early barge tenors, skewering the peerage with cratered newsprint chats. Lapping loiterers track schematic whorls, imprinting flat dendritic cores. Cunning foils the cowling, merging hearts with crabapple dirges, pickled in threaded time.