Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Zero Grav

by John Pursch

Groupies understand mired cannibals, rowing for liftoff, nagging the blockhouse contenders with anthem regard, ticking till repulsion tests an impish frosting. Starkly smitten croakers feed a mastiff walrus treats, merging into Danish columns, washing duodenal alcoves with swerving salamanders. Potted flan acquits reposing barbers, shipping careworn tunics to alabaster napes, yearning for spurned boathooks. Sewn emergent steno pools rip aging whine valve seams, dressed in olive bandoliers and fruitful Pentecostal airs, spooling off an empty cordon’s crude Masonic chore. Hair absorbs the boomtown flutes, stoking an orchestral bumbler’s moxie-driven float machine, crimped from unfurled raisin moats. Dimes strip clowns of ghoulish ashtrays, whiffing in menorah dances, boarding hired trikes for the nearest stepping sun’s bulbous playground ark. Shame propellers snag egregious wavelength karma moods, exciting duped clucks to mash emphatic pleas in curable sedition. Two slurping venerators enjoin the onset to quibble under rayon twilight, overtly esteemed. Periodicals shed opulence at ivory coronations, fixing atavistic fairy trolls with caked-up swoons and needle clogs, hexing a corridor’s mute dandelion. If lobster racquets call Gouda grails to heal a pouting footfall blurt, how might thimble couriers soil sebaceous seizures, plugging emblazoned harpies with newly ported worship? Lined finery, pooled in pestles of diatonic steam, enfolds a chary caste’s spinnaker, spiraling up wardroom wormholes to munched cardigan bliss, mumbling buttoned chestnuts. After portly howlers hunt internal wailing floats, litigious embolisms race for homing jeeps, splitting treasonous dodos with apparent knaves. Slurred atonal actuaries pump cute camels for drone stochastics, charted by henpecked underwear, bowling till drowned correction champs refloat the tribal flounder’s lamprey chute. Gravel sheets implore unpolished fens to crease a contoured goat with Ferris whales, spending chaste treadmill notes on bungee codas. Hovering ponds eject the desperado’s futile hair retractor, splitting gabled dawns with canned intrusion’s placid sighs. A dollhouse stoolie’s vapid idioms polish nabbed belly dancers, minding scored yogurt for agoraphobia’s censured grottos. Interns cobble snowy catheters from looming starter gum, heaping Gordian trotters upon a graying Airedale’s tournament glance. Sonatas regale effulgent bridal flares with dowser wands, snapping hurtled porpoise shale to stitched tureens of lukewarm plenitude. Knots gore foaming senators with crowns of mortal oomph, peddling effluent. Sodden easements cave in funerary paws, basing astral porn rejection’s misshapen pounce on radial comeuppance. Shaven blows evaporate to sunlit mold, waxing municipal shirtsleeves in the lurching hourly craze. Believing shakes before dosage doom, trusting wordless murals in lieu of humbled sots, we cartwheel, thump, and pickle upward, drooling in zero grav.

1 comment:

  1. This is what can happen when the poet frees him/herself from the "gravity" of audience expectations for "meaning" and for "a poem":

    True freedom of expression. No intended "gravitas" to sink the mind. Now we see and hear pure language, released from the constraints of belief and assumption.

    Bravo, John Pursch!