John Pursch

Wish-Securing Gel

Hatchlings patent snores of primordial grouper kitchenette betrayal, dishing vowels to vanguard lunch erosion’s tidy cougar carrying set. Soil emotes gaseous linear ague, seeding clove symptoms, bunching sorbet gourmands in astigmatic mortuary tenders, filched from framed luminaries.

Ham bobbles pasties in blonder overtures to sardonic word fish tapestries, puddling common focal medicine in drenched furor, seeping behind enigmatic limes to produce an auction’s actuarial bleat.

Mullioned elfish terriers spring to, eclipsing teal streets, walling offal into tined illusion’s secular pontoon bilge, sprouting cavitation chopstick broth’s deferral gills in closing sandwiches.

Silky ballads groom offensive doormat cleavers, scoffing at crimson glints, tittering at knee sock necromancers, bottled in turbid wish-securing gel.

Heaping hydrangeas on hybrid training phlegm, carbon histrionics pelt softly scuppered tufa screens with ashen facial planetesimals, searing poor boy hooligans in chelated scimitars of pixelated hoopster knots, tussling with grime.

Birds portray impassive chunks of conning flower accretion, sparing ellipsoidal nightingales with golden autocratic hoodies in dallying punk symmetry’s warm peseta groove, gloving Doyouwanna’s slim metallic rivulet to dearly resurrected tribal incense raft.

Deft heroics calmly submerge, eyeball by bilious trifle, bereft of elemental nuisance cruft, instilling grief’s brief alley sea with loathsome vivid innocence, stunning seven evenly opined ritual cankers into crammed groping.

Dotage lies just over the horizontal catapult of lifeline’s brooding intensity, signifying noticeable valve curtailment, sputtering in autumn’s dusky sense time dabble fade. Applause erects a mighty clay formaldehyde prong, penciling in erratic tragicomedies for extraneous artistic heart throbs, pedaling to the tuned harmonica’s phalanx of wheat patrol deployment glass.

Feral refills file drowned dunderheads to matchbox shellfish swordplay swirls, surly in tariff shindig guardian bogs beyond a levied sax erosion petticoat, lending spendy hostel charioteers to dialed ecclesiastic mumblers in lethargic wolf trap hibernation plumes, furrowed steeply into tiny seas.

Hen Fax

Morphed nanoseconds draw our wiggy star pulley into inky amp-eyed cravings, drowning heavenly lassitude in heady scents of Queequeg liaison.

Half-car horticulture’s indie face-off seems thrown by votive lubricants, stowing our turpitude with tabletop dolls, dunked headlong in fleshpot alacrity.

Dashed honeys take a hit and hop a leg of burnished ingots to known calm oddities, some piled kinda venison that favors handy injury to Cable Town Ferry’s teapot howdy downs, stimulating hovercraft.

“Pshaw, he’s Beau Geste,” Penpal confides to Seahorse, shopping her hallowed libido in flotsam Jetway snow, burgling wheeze penny tokes of fear befuddled, growing oats in spied efficacy, shushing slowly peeling bumper corn meal’s ornithology from stumps of rusting nabobs.

“Butane idles into addled windy peaches, beautiful sire,” Seahorse snorts, charnel and dyspeptic, tucking leeward shavings into glimpses of canned verisimilitude.

“Props musta pouted half full!” shrieks a heavenly Theta, her pie chaw dwindling forward, crowning the Glock, provender’s hussy owl witlessly detuning toured combs and plain-habit antsy tingles.

Hens fax heat, peremptorily swearing at hissing drunks of handy ova, mints, vermin, and shy oldies, spatially wincing at conned soldiers.

Daddy’s floral data sighs, cooing heavily for wanton desk clocks, wide of Curacao’s whirled wicker wall and triple anise hearts of culpably embargoed feisty slatterns.

Nod to munchkins while inhabitability hovers, tipped inimically in modus isle, majority’s domicile left taut by easy snout blade entry’s snuffed forty-hour tan, your new nose waddling shifty sighs with cents askew, the highly mired magi’s spectacle requited.

Hit properly wound doused undie grout, but haul wee cantos till he’s dry, drowning heat coups in deaf laughter, spooling minds who reckon, “Whose Aleuts?”

Periscope Murrain

Time claimed the living dreams of daytime deadlocked operatic hyacinths, lifting wispy daffodils in curling soliloquies, solidifying straightened spines in bookstore cavern corridors of leafy granularity’s ideal suspense.

A cat appeared to lick its chops in feral ferocity’s nimble leap to tabletop security, petting pauses found in newly saturated double binds, cast to segue caisson motor carriage benevolence, drifting over silent cemetery lawns.

Magi smoked beside embellished tomb residue, sidled up to sarcastic offerers, knelt in dappled recompense, and flowered before temporal crater goatee lamination troughs, flooding hillside trails with penitential crouton sense.

Sweeteners gave off crusty floes of glowworm necktie tugs, pinching cowlick comparisons in tiny teething cringes, feeding panned Saltines to gruffly stilted frost emotions, wished away by wary fulcrum devotees.

Laboratory cuticles supplied supernal herbivores with trendy notches, scarfed in alpaca gist, angling for starry cries of gruel entendre’s midday acumen.

Wanton erstwhile meanies philandered left and tritely chosen, espousing aural imminence in providential smoothie vigor’s lap dance vitriol, scavenging toroidal house plant pardons from royalty’s police brawl neckline bungee splat.

A dining chew went undetected, nibbling in salacious salad haze atop enabled habitats for rusty lioness default, fanning shaky convictions to scalding ardor’s stifling wherewithal in chattel periscope murrain.

Shaven hoes usurped enigmatic eczema from skin-deep tribal rivet seekers, glowering in redacted morning calories of discount pyres and stem note easement caption pith, brought to headline boiler bloat amid generic plain wrap clothesline spores of stellar earrings, melted into helmet fur.

Afterimages of felt commotion propositioned ghoulish train piers, doffing pillbox hackle cinder tears and cheeky symptomatic spoonerisms, beveled in twi-night public satisfaction’s grizzly replacement project, stiffing imputed carriers of blast placenta pollen talismans, one by squeaking omen, suffering achromatic notation’s predated tumbleweed emotion click.

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/spotlight/whiteskybooks. His recently released experimental lit-rap video is at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l33aUs7obVc. He’s @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.
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