Wednesday, April 9, 2014

3 poems || John Pursch

Tapeworm Car

You made haste.

I, apparently,
am now in excess,
with many more
needs each day.


Thoughts in frozen lakes.
A hotel’s missing sink.

Hay Moan

After they freak out Sweet Time Angie,
comely canned lobots waddle up to humans,
Hen Moss Lake’s leeward awful hour
shaking angry antics in ad lib oration
at Wanking Oven Heights.

“Zounds!” Toucan Dupree spews,
ever endowed with addled ergot,
exclaimed in spritely show.

“Hay moan, hook odd urge you?”

No comments:

Post a Comment