Monday, April 7, 2014

A Poem by John Pursch

Corrugated Sunset
Sameness warps embezzled baubles, heading often over four-souled seizure cruises of realized despotic birthright noons and tambourine malt grooves. Gutting shallow semaphores with crampon wheels, studded wallet lice ingest resected hippie nylons, gargling buckle heirs till escapades patrol sedated ditch saloons for whispering motels. Geese swallow camshaft wobbles in tender secondary paddleboat fiascos, mixing mossy axes with hazelnut ire sweeteners for wilting swordsmen.
Paralegal dice emetics croon shyly at swaying libertines in crawdad cucumber lessons, planting escutcheoned wharf grinders in Manichean toothache ads. Creases breach the blotto with portable heliotrope musician tweezers, flaying croutons to preferential bivouac clots of gourds in tiki roundup kitsch colonic olfactory soap.
Mowing heavenly shaven plowboys into barricaded beer hall pundits, treed carousels erase sour expatriates from softly shorn tower grime, swishing leafy choir exemptions within estrangement’s peculated rapport. Bedroom brigands exfoliate sidewalk brothel sores, resealing public sway marines in laminated sardonic aardvark whistles. Detuned rodeos pull hovercraft tantrums on sidling taxidermy patients, subtly tooting salty shadow ploys for sloped erectile dignitaries in channeled stupa silo grout.
Grieving toes rebound on baked soil cousins, filming carnies swilling looped paratroopers in pallid poltroon cunning slacks that flit about facial heirloom sirloin quips with pesky philatelic spandex teases, bento pox deluded. Roaring shanties cavil for doorman yen but fetter newfangled fumes with shoed nun consonance and queerly infarcted casuistry whelps.
Stopgap stamina repeals summed paragons of purview’s frail owl direction clips, eclipsing connected dames with tufa peristyles of jellied dungeon transfusion blimps. Hotter whiz deflection fleas engorge seven water pugs on gimpy cribbage pedestals in waggish country candy phone booth downfall wax, replete with genuflecting stupor scars, annealing in frenetic grooming towers.
Welded grappling lions float through traumatic fainting gills, spreading pleasure eels in glandular hoopla mixers, swapping cattle for hosed entrepreneurs and corrugated sunset. Dollops of exploding angst submerge crisply wafted pageant queens in blooper relic gunny shins, planting crenelated beer mechanics in phased-out quandary bunts, inching for clifftop dawdlers, befuddled by pluralistic fish masks.
John Pursch lives in Tucson, Arizona. His work has been nominated for Best of the Net and has appeared in many literary journals. A collection of his poetry, Intunesia, is available at His recently released experimental lit-rap video is at He’s @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.

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