Lost Annulus

by John Prusch

Capsizing in guttural foam, phonemes blurt from mantra towers, calibrating the graying river. Formal juicers flip to chlorophyll lightning, strapping polls to ether crane pursuits, greeting hieratic swoons in aftershave cowls. Quiet nocturnes sift the gravel salient for broken mimes, hopping souls of ancient wood. Kneelers stare at autonomic birds, caped in traipsing torches, anchoring rodeos to potted daughters of androgynous quartets. Impinging on ottomans, pseudonymous age patrols urge expository cleavage to tackle a toroidal chimp. Climbers of dreary tactile smithereens mate in spurious trickles of carousel smiles, earning knapsack hunger. Scampering in dimes, surgical fires descend in ulterior tassels, sparking tomographic yodelers with noontime equestrian seizures. Filched pontoon whereabouts deter an aural metaphor, grafting corn missionaries to train whistle pleas. Adorable rabble kits, encouraged by populating waifs, parse neurotic embolisms, repealing a pretender’s cane. Intake mascots cry for rain disease, redacting trellis wheat in hemline trinket dunes. Smooth stochastic phalanges, immersed in stairwell girth, drench carotid knaves in maniacal torrents of trodden steam and generic minutiae. Downstream glovebox hives mince events in roving slipknot shoes, simplifying autocratic crease machines. Blasts of planned wind gargle transparent husks, borrowing a timing bell. A city of futility, fertility, febrility, flimsy logic, worn intestines, collapsed murals, simian brain states, lucid séance blues, steel cheeks, encapsulated rhythm, intoned druids, immersion salts, mashed raisins, inoculation walls, twirling hatcheries, daubs of sterile pickpocket truce…