Tuesday, September 1, 2015

3 poems || John Pursch

Patch o’ Pine Solution

Periwinkle Pop Tarts imitate
a flying potato meat contusion bucket,
tackling active sex-prediction carrying kits
with kitchenette expulsion rituals
of falsely held Pleistocene beliefs.

And yet, time itself peels off
in formal cataclysmic differences
of uncreased effort’s maritime
decision quotients,
divvied up among diversely
huddled loops of lupine wander,
snapped to pyroclastic caulk
by shiny puckered doorknob flight
and frugal misbegotten caries,
plunged fitfully through grainy
sandbar crumple stilt compaction
ditch opprobrium delay police.

Liner quotes imbue the albumin
with soft inquisitive meows
of catchy phraseology
in two-step diamond
dockyard duodenums,
folded county clickity-clucking
and petticoat felicity ferocity
lengthwise down serrated spinal
information quarters of drawn butter
and marginal libations.

Seventy oaths erupt from
Amelia’s aerated breastwork
patch o’ pine solution,
sanding meals to smiling dirgelike
qualities of hourly focal pumpernickel,
spelling tethered lozenge soup redaction
in three Cyrillic alpha-blocker dance quintets
of bumpy silt and imputation amperage.

Boxed Emphatic Wheat

Sugar arcs between our focal
tee-top crux and interleague
left-fielder lunges,
sledding into weaning runts,
challenging the chord skeet
peppermill to sag interred,
despite climatic circus lotion.

He chafes at aluminum,
wearing fully tiled impeachment trails
a mile from silo pinion overlooks,
hung festively for superannuated limps.

Hoteliers partition a silent sneeze
with fingered thuds of bean pod
cavitation pallor,
quailing quite imploringly
at bowling scores.

Scabs retreat to plaque attraction,
cutting crooked lemonade
with sheaves of famished paucity.

Often spreading fasteners
in branches busted for the merest
sweet protection moon of yearly
auditory nerves,
slinky skimpers dance
till early awning bay drakes
castigate a flying fish,
earning postprandial debutantes
the crepe musette of bluesy bog
theatrical encomia
in silly attic dreamboat ants,
tossed in curiously spangled
tales of boxed emphatic wheat.

Akashic Asterisk Approval

The bolide in training
splits and smokes in causal fits
whenever toys are solid,
asking furor for an
oscillating kaleidoscope
of mixed pollution fallout buckets,
breeding south of easement shallows,
filing fish with damsel
underpayment leers.

Anarchic eyebrows imply
akashic asterisk approval,
stating mobile amity instead
of governed blotch secession,
filling rigged payday dirt
with antiseptic smocks.

Publicly quelled
children migrate in situ,
cobbling duplicitous
to postulate illogically
pentagonal bento ambition,
supping on impassive prawns.

Frank and tiny stomachs
gamble collectively,
vanishing in smudge pot flickers,
gently swinging aerobatic
incense salts before
ergodic roses.

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