20170119

John Pursch



Teapot Pterodactyl


The beauty of the day, in sunshine, in paradise of cockatoos and cactus wrens and autonomic wonder wheels, of glances into nothingness, delving beyond depth into abysmal tendencies of charged participles, churning pantaloons, rifled muskrat aperitifs in coldcocked phlebotomy of fixated news junkies, riveted to cold iron superstructure of marked-up discount dregs in discontinued vineyard streets, allied with spinning daze of momentary glimmer into shifting parallax.

How can one simply intended sentence devour the mind so completely, subverting slow-played logic with logistically confounded calumny, iterated fishnet flogging, fatuous voluptuosity, lugubrious dishpan hands of surgical certitude, finely finned endorphins, purported pulpit pounders, quartered quintets queuing quietly in quilted quoits?

Whence comb bleached calliopes of poorly wheezing manly wartime warblers, pinned to frozen rooftops, chimneys curled in stoked smack of forearm flesh to limping coffee standoff, cream of the croupier’s stolid cooling plover, flexed to indignant infantry barrage buffoonery in bubbled mascot misfit twist, sardonic saxophone of buckboard galley strawman visage, grimace fall guffaw galoot cahoots cavorting teapot pterodactyl gumdrop settee?

There is, of course, no unanswerable question worth asking in this breathless whirl of swiveled chairmen, box top olio, roadkill curio, captivating corncob folio, flipper-aided extra ballpark gun rack pizzicato blender bust of holding clip joint cue ball fantasy, nova scuttled bygone bellhop dungarees to Dundee County Kildare, draconian activation sneeze, silenced by licentious insipidity, lascivious lumberjacks, smitten vowels, disavowed aluminum sailboat gales, coral keystroke aliquots of Algonquin cotton, turning in hotel sheets.

Perhaps a glass of watery-eyed thunder is in ordinary drift repair, placemat pharmacology to distal colloquy of stubble lint or chin-wise subterfuge or stippled stigma stereotype of atropine, atypical morphology, or armchair Romeo.



Assimilated Smile


Planked beach from fuel line caricature sifts a passing cloud, releasing dirt in laundered detritus of soft Eurasian fellowship. Struts imply an educated guest, eviscerated sand belief in undulating identities, selfish corridors of leash abutment carols sung at half the specious flair contort of nouns imploding into ferns within the crater. We go deeper, hiking through striated coral, meadows of solid rock, private parity conserved beside anabolic appetite for glowing guava, meandering down emphases of tickled climber fashion cleats.

Grown tails plunk townships into endlessly delightful squares, pizzas built for moonbeam quakes, flocking streptococcal fleas parlaying higher fiction into vast allocations of sweltering glimmers in the lakeside spores, bacterial indifference evolving out of inferential caps. Clasping sparsely held immersion grubs to Chesapeake outlets, drummers soil kitten fabric with aspirated quail, flocked phalanges tweaking corn mutation gifts, trying to exchange a baying noon for immolated werewolves.

Nod to assonant bystanders, fouling offal into pecan switch deferral, meaning to adore a suddenly missing peal, a bell, adumbrated debutante, depilatory application swell, sticky crumpet pause in pulley quench. Filtered flies cause coddled water to rise, cakey cauldron escargot along eloping tennis courts. Some howitzers fly in supper drowning kits, bolted expertly to a fuselage for sultans to injure cranberry muffins with felt eel. Tree line miners find aspiring sponges in a collared spool of mead, quaffing boxcar petulance on frightened yet casual plaster seals. Riding the blackened spines of plague vectors, Velcro tramway fistulas connote impending filial piasters, probably in pavement spiracles.

Ahh, the perspiration of elusive meat, tectonic bladder commerce kids on glossy gaping gloaming fender, sold to decades caught by pineal eyelet quasar stet, left for crime sequential ease to fumble into formulae of murky origin, zeroed xenophobic prance, twirling wren, in ocular causality. Clones go way downtown in unmarked backgammon dogs, sparkling over globular cover girls, longing for aerial sunshine, dimpled metal canyons, spurning butter valise. Sloshed in abdicated apple sauce, concertgoers whoop it up, pouring out the cider sheepskin sumac screed atop an early morning bakery, inhaling stained callouses.

Factotums acknowledge adumbrated lobots with a wink, a glare, assimilated smile, nudging artificial ribs with well-worked fleshy fingers, sworn to egress given hefty shanks of carotid skiffs, floating floral blimps, glassy thrumming gelatinous owners shipping crated automatons from scenery to pliant planetary stems. Instances of consciousness emerge to quell a mirrored ant subduction crimp, slaving away in statuary malted shine from tusk to quinine flush atop caloric caption stew. Gramophones pelt outer wombs with inconceivable novae, stooped stellar asterisks, lupine vapor trails of immunity addicts bleating nolo can’t entendre a bleached pardon, a flagon, a defalcated bath oil bead.



Insular Stravinsky


A cacophony of muttered arpeggios, replaced by Russian, voiced in parenthetical assumptions, severed thunder of clapped good mornings; somewhat perplexing comments about pierogi, parturition, blue garage consonants, and stellar cutoffs.

I could only ask that people please be still and render cakehole heaven to violins of vitriolic induction, inverted penguins, strung-out heist machines on qualified avuncular angstroms of shale, shimmering flukes and fluted grass in blonde stepsisters of Georgia, gimcrack guffaws, galleries of gallstone specimens, mentation gone to tater tollhouse festivals, interventionist pop-ups, medical mincemeat, matted heirlooms, a glitch, my kingpin for a hitching post, a hoisted petroleum dart, a dated but incommodiously feathered wire of eaten tweed, fainting teen elves between clarinets of dwindling power, supple yet pliant liars on alleyways of wooden statesmen, flocked to insular Stravinsky freaks, all gone flowery but flouncing to fleabag mothball seed conundrum cans of ancillary checkup chocks, shopping for sewn tires in whirled canteens.

Spuriously tipples, maybe acquitted peanuts, off the emblematic car and into flossed tinder gnaw of such serrated teething mechanisms as mired beeline bivouac bites liner nose cone knots from nuptials, knackered nocturnal curtseys in prancing fleets of filigreed economies in worldly swordfish of petrified ushers, keystone copulation, scuppered steel, bloviated underlings, tachometer itch notwithstanding. Perhaps a slight pain in the backstop, a sweltering but wild and pithy stadium, providential rowboat grease, grown suggestive scenery, a streak of bassinette on bubbled Quonset, sputtering to ground. Cacti gingerly finger skyline clouds, scud the pterodactyl’s waterline, tip the timpani player handsomely, and char the weightless with carbonized silence.

Insolent messengers shove hand-to-eaten billboard paste square into gullet grooves of freshly shaven ship-to-shoreline aphorisms, known well below stenographic stockyards as stereotypically stultifying but quiescently quixotic kumquats. The vapid fire of stimulated drumstick peat flogs skyward pollywogs, bewigged by belly-flopping benefactors bent on rotary dendrites, barely olfactory elation, exhaling egrets, skillfully combinatorial sterns, fanboy tribulation, pianissimo pond plural of fricasseed yet public consequence. All for sandblasted loafers, sworn to secrecy by expectorated chains of inner donor chimps, quenching thick respect of incoming trainee heels.

Oh, the sound, the veritable power blast of newly sired terrain, a quietly clopping hearse-line caricature of impending battle, buttered catchword carrying melodic armory, gashing all cardigans with button down, edging fever so closely by and pie the chartroom, the brig, par-high brigade to brigand skate to floral sprig to brigadier of loitering extant proof, quod hieratic remonstration into nom de plumage lariat of vile vest, patting up and over epaulettes to garbled egghead crank to turncoat gnomes.



John Pursch lives in Tucson, Arizona. Twice nominated for Best of the Net, his work has appeared in many literary journals. A collection of his poetry, Intunesia, is available at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/whiteskybooks. His lit-rap video is at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l33aUs7obVc. He’s @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.
 
 
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