Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Gargled Azimuths

by John Pursch

Coastal capillaries explode, collating dermal indices for groping neural fleets of wizened sailboat panic, chafing vitiated roundabouts with friendly deferential ploys. Cargo clots in jesting loops, perched atop eyeliner mules, trading stoppered gnarls for eerie ruptured tees. Watches man tremendous cycles, defaulting tired helicopter tracts, flecked with warring brides. Whoever drinks oven moats sleeps amid effusive keystone pumps, grafted into onset grease. Satchels simply reify paraffin marrow, freezing haggard cenotaphs in maelstrom baguette news. Relegated unicorns defy leggy dollops of emissary poise, singing cloudy carvings to sleet. Elsinore drifts to Bollywood hucksterism, mulching compass taints in artificial estuaries. Havens owe impeding strums to graven teaser etchers, christening octaves in annual bleats. Astral mites submerge diurnal auctioneers, melting crimson pavement down to pale Parisian donuts. Shaven oats encrypt a solitary mouse, drenching Scottish pantries with ergonomic aisles. Waddling squires inter pliable watchwords, revel in a mossy garter’s nosy pelt, and fuse encrusted motel rugs with stairwell banyans, groveling for fleas. Crevices spawn porous hikes, icing clocked hookers, keeping chartered minnows abreast of hedged iterations. Splotches clink around hepatic crater blots, computing paired wonk leisure grout. Prized eczema weans the chancellor’s thirsty daughter off hermetic gumdrops, peeling offal from chaise blouses. Elder manes eschew a spoken dowager, clamoring for supple terriers, tussling over surefire clamps. Posh wardens sip gargled azimuths beneath envisaged tailings, rowing sows to reasonable filth. Cables hint at orphic willows of enumerated men, hardly plopped in teetering ham creeks, despite wadis stocked with choral hoots. Woods drip resinated armpit brew, miffing any rural stamen spleef, cresting in young antics. Pontoon ages grapple freely, cashing only halters for apiary skull caps, freshly kicked from stationary market motes. Primed for feeble contraband, abrasive cheats deface incarcerated chimneys, caressing equine admirals with bronchial brocades. Porcelain putters spit autumnal greetings on behalf of livid tumbrel breasts, measuring astringents by the scuppered pier. Sheaves swear to poplar blankets, mopping dowdy gallivanters into cupboard tomes, mixing Swiss customers with stymied sketchy spiels. Hefty chatroom owners plunk forty timed tornadoes into hovercraft pleats, blanking outer genome creatures. Nets withhold studious inflammation, albeit funereal, solely furious in masticated boots. Footage wears thumbscrews, toothy bales withstand the pleasure beaker, and simplifying murals kneel above a floral hemispheric pardon, silting up before acidic ashcans cover a manacled knee.

1 comment:

  1. "Gargled Azimuths" by John Pursch is "perfect word salad" because it is pure. Hence it is poetry, as it transcends meaning to point to deeper meaning.

    In contrast, we have a "word salad" performance on U-Tube here, and it is entertaining. But it is not pure, and it is not poetry: