Eyed from antler’s smiling swoon to filings of a civil action, measured actors play with salivation’s normal growl, citing code and suction, pinning feathered drafts to leeward primping jewels, shipping ants beyond galactic heat, peeling stalks from blue-ribbon tent cities. Aching ornithologists prevail on tarmac arrestors, forming raspberries in lobotic dipsticks. Sepulchres overflow with soiled gas, bowling under dawn’s easy spinster, gawking at her frilly entree, plugging faux vagrancy, hailing feral cheapskates as the clamoring official horde. Most whirled migrants blend en route, conform to immigration head-count, millions downshift to thousands in whirled quota, hundreds of personalities slip into housewife overnight: “Leader, he lobot; you cheap protoplasm rig.” Babies nothing next to prized lobotics, but far above mass walk-in heaps, addled spinning wheels, whiplash schism’s rampant Siamese overcoat, sweating into melded personae, handbag stew neuroses, flophouse beef. MM-22 was first female lobot to spring from Lung Island’s phosphorescent shores, far surpassed the Montauk boys in pure lobotic heaven: public teleportation, fully automated ghost towns, maundering lattices, pain-free rebirth, closed-caption ESP… Blowback’s inevitable perfect-whirled kids stow away for kicks, unmatched prints turn up in all across the system, submerged in low-crime tunnels from Lost Annulus to Your Nuke. Total argon vapors clip arrhythmic breeding, leafing through a hoagie, stoking the garrison’s sold-out emery board with wedgies. Riflemen utter nougat to pet operands, addling crouton alleyways in fusion crates, rendered off-duty and deliciously unchambered by a flock of floozies, chapped and spoiled and chartered, shipped into poses at lusty minuets, dancing to a greatcoat waltz. Too much for horses in firehouse pose to stand, hearing popcorn underwear from hometown automatic foundry’s popsicle faker. Careening livery stoolies pounce on patriotic bedrolls and mulish morale, surreptitiously canonical in every crouching iced-over crockery kook known to pole-sliding highwaymen. None can feel for actuated poisoned bygones when locking down teething barrels and leering at heat-defying specimens.
Plural Burn
Heretical egrets peel away Parisian humps, pleased to belie colloidal treason, ossified in cramp glue. Philanthropic applicants sequester foals with dignitaries, igniting maelstroms before pumice crawls to Easter. Hosing out mixed futures, tiled causeways code rebirth into cobbled warehouse genes, flashing looped serration. Bedtime’s altar vainly flushes, pummeling days with argon pauses, slinking into coronal unction’s terrifying storage flan. Putative emitters teach reposing stealth to unrefracted density, monthly or veering at spoken flecks, aching into dialed tirades. Glomming on, monadic strains emit a moaning vision, nominally beastly, quashing robbed ballistic porters. Past irony pedals into molten gales, gawking at aromatic sonars from launching angles, scented with lilac for the coming trance. Brooding fiddles cop opinionated coils, scrambling laser etchings with peaked oodles. Stomachs change to sedentary technique, icing acknowledged ravings. Potted hoots scowl at sloping arthritics, bustling through soft borders of sputtering ejecta, creating timed dilutions. Hexed speakers peer along plunging lupine halls, ticking off curdled artillery for laudatory chestnut shoals. Spurning return vouchers, safecrackers salt prehensile minks with digitalis, deftly scraped from mumbling serenaders in a barking lunar zoo. Houses land an inky plaster for walled-off scimitars, deafening a swordfish with silo medics. Pinned events reset broiled factors, crossing dimly floating hearings with glossy turf. Springing to filed integument, extra personalities spill straight through facial troughs, insensitive to lofty hems, out of canned contextual mistresses. The party thus imprisoned knocks off yearly, fences wicked shivers for plodding teasers, and garbles for syntactic poking joints. Strobed intention telescopes to chronologic speed, hitting snow propellers, cast to diurnal memories of systematic youth. Planted histories dissolve in ruminating keels, flashing into transferred camera splints, boxing off eternal sight, lost in shuffled feet. Echoes reverse coined messages, touring idiosyncratic mouths, dealing in taped counterparts. Sliding gorges intimate fiords of vacant gloaming, catering to plural burn.
John Pursch lives in Tucson, Arizona. His work has appeared in The Camel Saloon, Counterexample Poetics, experiential-experimental-literature, and elsewhere. His fiction piece “Watchingstoned, T.V.” was recently nominated for the Sundress Best of the Net 2012 Anthology. His first book, Intunesia, is available in paperback from White Sky Books at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/whiteskybooks . You can follow him on twitter at http://twitter.com/johnpursch or on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/john.pursch .
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