3 poems || John Pursch

Her Leftover Foot

Purple purrs perfect indigenous replies

to muffed invigilator tracebacks,

stropping surreptitious scarabs

into cigarette blurs of birdsong shock’s

thermometer implosion.

Surrendering to chalky airport chattel surveys,

clapboard clones occlude the sword’s player

from bulky stenographic appeasement therapy,

crossing treatise stents with butterfly seclusion

hair trapeze investors.

Gonads seize on any blundered mosh peal

partisan’s pyloric disrespect, stiffing candied

sorority preenersfor strumpet silo peeks in

latter-quay contusion ceremonies

on the glittering payola cradle rock.

News wafts stroboscopic, crossing

retinal eagle treads with quorum certainty,

glossing underarms for chair lift peculation’s

surgical embodiment of mollified refraction.

Saunas cry worldly biplane manure receptors,

blaming denim dumbbell deodorant

for pterodactyl dipping doodles,

cropped to naked forceps stallions

by manic mane maneuvers on patrol

in neon switchback chimichanga tunnels.

Her leftover foot flew back to desktop myopia,

eclipsing sandwiched highland hosiery

with softened ankle hankerings for mobile

muriatic heels steeped in silly conifers.

Replay Sleet

Windy stress shafts wind beneath

deserted floral technocratic palace ticks

of cloakroom lozenge asthma rhythms,

slung carefully at smitten naïve hangnail spines

of novel alimentary negation’s usurped welter.

The sun sidles idly, crowning bivalves

with pied pallor’s wavy crank exposure,

imposing sternly grafted flesh demands

on disco’s bloodied blotter bumbershoot fanatics,

sold to faulty slant reduction scimitar collation grips

for hallway pitchman ancillary coda complements

and crested soil in undulating highway greenery malaise.

Shyly plotted fate evades

eviscerated hostage punditry’s

credulity charade on hefty channel

spandex kneecap’s lopped and saddled

hortatory ort of ergonomic visitation shrikes,

filtered into hissing mounds of fowl

ballistic munitions sins.

Amply curdled camp ignition parquet soars

to tinny coital clamoring beside imperfect jelly roots

of wishy-faucet fratricide and greatly granulated

coffee crunch fruition’s laissez chaise sagacity,

ensconced in boffo subterfuge pugnacious fugues of sludge.

Derisive shiners ached habitually

on conga limestone pedestals,

walking shamefully to treatise coroner mummeries

with cramming grievers on believable replay sleet.

Strip Tease Junction Sweat

Parsley mollifies a stymied retriever,

flashing toga tags in lunch box stitch rebuttal,

crossing shuffled riverboat deltoids

with scapulas from stouter basement toilers,

rendering original shin doctors obsolete

in swirling tan country deckhand domiciles.

So much for pedestrian banter beneath

grossly cursive laundromat induction spines

in trounced sound border towns

of dusty floorboard recompense,

fugitive enslavement’s pending mishmash,

and lugubrious potato handhold skiing sacraments,

pressed into auxiliary surface fiord replacement studies.

Forming years from juxtaposed agitation baffles,

Sergeant Spellticake kneels before three bowling bots

in supple inch incineration, flashing head to toe

in cinder suction latency, batting naughty icicles

at sky clash pestilence mutation axes.

Snoozing urchins overhear professional recession quints

in birthing bangs and pan-Pathetic war paint glimpses

governing an energetic spurge of sordid nautical omissions,

battle feces not withheld from epoch alibi rehearsal scotch

and tunic bumbling fees.

Operas pend in Adriatic inanity fleets of flustered lute reminders,

bilking scarf removers into hearsay overkill’s

emolument of bracing screamer gaslight pain

and breadfruit sink loquacity’s polysyllabic involvement

with denuded daytime trait repealers.

Donors eat at bait inscription saddle shore reception gigs

with cruising chartered insignia impalers in pallid ardor,

deprecating caged soldiers.

Silver eagles pine for luau lollipops ahead of humping umps,

crashing into catchy paddock dissection straits

when optional neurologists begin to query bedside coma eulogists

for seedless pager numbing clues, sold audibly to mining town

executors in lieu of strip tease junction sweat.