Monday, August 24, 2015

3 poems || John Pursch

Picking Prescient Lobsters

Bones draw squatters
into slowly capped precis
of precinct blue sagacity
and sparse informant noumena
for sexy tensile treadmill bites
of credible sand.

That's what she pets for
gleaning inclination birth
from sassy gumption teardrop
twine in unexpected dread
of shadowed forehead clicks.

Her doctor murmurs
from created spurts
of borrowed limit
farce extrusion sips,
but sooty pores prevent
searchlight carrion from
spearing her wayward
which crush an innocent
threadbare pant leg
with sirens.

Funny sores have scum
and goners scurried
knotted paths from
coning simulation craws
to island betting zonal schools
of house betrothal insect alum,
picking prescient lobsters over
peachy putter paddy fragments.

Against the Evening Shadows

Expurgated thoughts recede
in miracles of cozy somnambulance,
wailing down one-way city byways
in lawful disregard for canny
ventriloquism’s panned political
evasion, treading ink.

Stained thighs suffocate transparency,
postulating looped intercoastal surface themes
of squalor, tutelage, and morphed remainders,
dallying in fishing villages.

An old wooden boat,
sturdy and well-studied,
its pages turned
to leaves of solid brass,
increases with devalued poplars
against the evening shadows,
lapping up the shoreline.

Catching as only cobbled catchwords can,
cocooned cacophonies clip exotic nuance,
shipping stunned rats to martial amity,
amazed at every turncoat’s buckled floorboard,
creaking into silent seams of time-trap monotony.

Announcements come to mind,
shearing corn in copulation woes,
theorized from straw to sand.

Blasted Nerf Repair

The sky is blearily clued,
dotted beauty foundering
on shores incipient
to lay adornment’s
incandescent codicil.

Orchestras decamp in planar viscera,
sounding softly to canonical scatology,
lifting castaways from curbside dregs
to pea pod federation looms,
sighing callow heiresses
in warmly shelled synonomy.

Pastiche plays crown
phlegmatic orators
with tawny meteoric cries,
benching brokered salamanders
every fulsome coronation,
searing seagulls to the aria’s
bounding cadence.

I wonder feral moments
under blasted Nerf repair,
stiffing noon for alphabetic luminaries,
spline informant caravans,
and caramel surrender blooms
of dated miniatures.

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