Faustian Fleas
Lipids zip along a panned diversion,
cashing humpback heels for coronary carpet torque,
stringing shoeless buckles skyward.
Rapport mingles with speared treason,
issuing shellfish to pointed stereo ribs,
gathering tight apes.
Slurps herd parabolic sisters into postcards,
guessing stark entrails from enclave bottoms.
Not to buy insoluble stains from venal urns,
antsy herbivores rake osmotic chrysanthemums
over clipboard fables, seeping under fueled purists.
Null cotter pins revoke putative stentorian milk,
sputtering when chosen toys dwarf a soothing newlywed.
Bilingual gymnasts ease pastoral grates aside,
extolling warm Victrolas.
Revelatory greyhounds spot Faustian fleas
on phosphorescent commissars,
pending soybean fusion.
Cookie
Sand crawls beneath
a soldered cookie’s
scribbled thong,
dueling gravy to a
statutory standstill
in moonshine facial
trickle stump’s
concubinal
virulence.
Her slacks
hang pouting
in diametrically
crepuscular
twine agreement’s
peninsular trimester,
foisted foibles leading
strange luminaries from
watershed synecdoche
partitions of Velcro vermin
to voluminous v-neck petters.
Wedged wayward
Jell-O boats flutter,
staffed with equestrian
daredevils piercing
soothing scythes
for chandelier
accompaniment
with menthol sword
profusion’s coyly
prefigured grind.
Sixteen Doubts
Sixteen doubts caress a cerebellar sampling shunt
with bailing coven wristwatch twinge serration myths,
locating the duly muffled sire of sworn dimples
in the pure pubescent smile of android stoolie crows
on necrophilic daytime creamery diffusion spokes
near hub town pardon scurrying nests of blown knee
Punic territory ale.
If sex were hauled to cracked upper staircase
catacombs by cataclysmically inclined plaster peelers,
what would becalm the titanic question barkers
of all incipient iterations of receptivity’s born retrieval,
cored to steamy ground improvement snow graphs?
Evenly sundered sots implore bland wagoners
to defalcate enduring singers twice a day in spritely
carrion traceries of codfish potion smoker krill,
posturing for blemished cloture counterpoint impellor hogs,
flowing round the hip-length sighs through featurettes
of well-constructed sallow boys who warp blue alley byways
into mime tureens to swallow hurtled gentry scavengers
in balky coder hovels.
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 http://www.lulu.com/
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