Friday, November 15, 2013

5 poems || John Pursch

Thigh Scan Sea

Waddle when offal dings 
wear on staring wasps, 
blubbery dunes trenching 
umpteen harried pharaohs 
into thigh scan sea.

Brothel Fix

Wrongly elaborated 
fuel conspirator brothels 
fix maladroit corrosion fossils,
golfing with an attache when windy
in spavined seizure’s daylight moon cartel.


Some things cannot be
expressed in words alone.
How curious that so few words
suffice to say so.

Percolating Beauty

Nod wholly, 
somehow to self,
pernicious in high-rent teasing,
growing sluggish in festering toppled digs, 
plausibly too hot for inguinal breastplate taters, 
hip to percolating beauty’s recoiling elation, 
ground to coinage by horned bailiffs 
with twitchy fervent neighbors 
in seashore’s graven affront of
spiny fuselage cordon trance, 
wedged between flotation drills 
of mastermind teeth acres.

The Sequel Kid

Who’d humbly wind 
two canned, old oars,
stopping a bloated souse 
with demolition quads, 
plopping planned precision 
in delta makings of a hero’s 
foolish scourge?

Neckties mock emasculated 
tundra from hinterland speak, 
quelling squelches of the Sequel Kid 
with gross rotation Midianites 
in par-four coughing gorges, 
whaled between the Groin Canton 
and Lago Prowler, huffing with
tufa nerds in slattern, hairy comas.

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