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. Check out his experimental lit-rap video at https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=l33aUs7obVc. He’s @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.
Life steeps in hot temporal manifolds, steadying the landing craft for incoming bulletins of punch card boardroom peg leg insurrection, casting off saddle points of pure inflected love.
She pins her hopes on ankle-deep mirage release in mirrored steam pipe elegance, tossed to Tuesday somersaults by cats of putty neigh denial, spending meatball sawed-off taxidermy codes on wishful tankard dreams, catching vinyl octagons within a weir of polyester burial.
Slowly, imperceptibly, the days invade Lost Annulus from Days Ago again, again, against the grainy flim-flam shot put canister of aging film reality, bending light speed torpor into pedaled cyclic repartee of birth and tethered tomahawk inclusion beef, flooding the troposphere with Tropicana calling cards, scars of forced derision teeth, and putative suggestions.
Fending off an attache in grimy zero discotheque entanglement of fanciful endorphin crushed valise embodiment, repeatable deliveries of biped boneyard bric-a-brac believe in bubble-barreled gutshot stratagems of birth, rebirth, and cool conceptual concatenation of karmic castaway Calypso glimpse.
Cured Robotic Uncle
Stop to chalk the going rate for sweaty udders, fishing long and clean to newts imbued with footsteps, crossing chest cadaver clothesline cleats within a christened boatswain’s deftly padded stockade.
She vitiates illegal rumination, hiding coarse eternal paving bones beneath a cloudy moon to swoon for graveyard roller goats in smiles of blithely buttered toeholds into victuals of consciousness.
Plentiful watchband kinks eradicate a shucking ham for coiled emotive anagrams of restless spoiler steel, clapping at funereal guys in distant handspring tributary knowledge, bought beside a cryptic technicality of formulated incense.
Intervals paste eternal mist to static meeting progeny, reflecting evenly distributed glance machines in lips of slickly bottled cars that speedily protrude.
Heaven winks in quietly chewed pastries, plastic seethes from wartime thuds to uttered bombast mistletoe, to chosen gauze container mints, to hinted sigh replacement language consecration bumps, to cutesy pylon swerve in cured robotic uncle Frisbee, notched to crimson emblem touch entendre, calcifying reindeer.
“Enjoy!” a screaming spaceman ad libs from rolling charismatic rhododendron, glasses propped above imputed eyebrow color, caramel to waxed umbilical élan.