Painting With Flares
Horsehide grafts
coat starchy bumblebee quartets, onerous and strangely fragrant,
slicking funereal fangs
with damp detergent dross.
Hip checks court a ciliated earring
in daylight tap-dance taupe, gushing spiteful birthright clamor,
prancing into crux release.
Buildings spawn in gleaned collusion,
flicking tasseled telephones at browning governors,
yearning to deify a rosy peak.
Incubating mufti feeders
defalcate a paratrooper’s final frown, elicit glowing pork, and fructify
the policy of trading knees,
painting riverbeds with flares.
Heaving Ho
Secretions eat away
at full-bodied barrage balloons, humidifying jugular resection’s
motile preference for shaft inspectors,
filtering blast furnace follicles
in bowties of crowded bunions.
Sweltering hoses gird dialed tendencies
with charismatic previews of mimed testimonials, idling at the spackled hovercraft’s shingled prow,
finished off by trunks of selfish undertakers.
Hoping for tattered kisses,
semiotic amulets prevaricate till dinner hours congeal,
recede to summer placemats,
and hint at interior matrons,
sewing yearnings from sticking point stew.
Heaving ho, elderberry crumble freaks
defy the quasi-stellar hospitality of pheasants in a sickeningly bawdy county,
immersing glued entrails in honeyed trivia.
John Pursch lives in Tucson, Arizona. His work has appeared in many literary journals and was recently nominated for the Sundress Best of the Net 2012 Anthology. His most recent book, Intunesia, is available in paperback from White Sky Books at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/whiteskybooks. He's @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.
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