Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Snow Flannel Creamsicle

by John Pursch

Shaman Weirdo Chet,
lotion queen extraordinaire,
dominant pax vobiscum vendor of
proboscis prostheses from Ovarian
Sveltenland to Luft Blank of Serengentifroid Rivulet,
cheap mercantile chopstick sidewalk abomination in
eyefuls of any lucid daydreaming steamship simulacrum;

in short, he breathe poisonous gustatory favoritism
with every ribald exhalation of exalted exhumation…

Chetly dream of attaining she-male status,
hermaphroditic aspirant gone sour
to eggplant noose concoction quaffer,
practical submerged hourly under tiny
paper bumbershoot of blam-blamboozle
snickers from all quartered corridors,
smiling millennial garrisons spewing
insidiously pale invective in quandary
heap of moldy toilette and rag o’ da mouth
sore clubfoot dangle kit bag eruptive chancre,
topped off with whipped Creamsicle of frozen
poi in taro-tinctured waistband seepage.

Still, Chet laugh at sunrise, taunt
cyclotomic integrity with tinny stone throw
of previous century Laudanum’s tubal tile raid
in bric-pac scattershot semblance of logistic
paralysis under junkie sky scream
to heathen-go-lousy store blight,
ceding bitten piles to timid travails of
twirling Battened Rouge, Glueiezee Handya
tripwire totem recourse flit.

Snow Flannel Can, puttering up
Cistern Hamjelloca’s delicate thighs,
synchs to next-door hammering on
Wotan’s pyre of fallen backs and archway
shivers into gold Snowember flurries,
blacking out to Prussian Font floss bites,
cinched evisceration tights, and brewed
enamel demolition churn of Zulu showers
in harrowed isthmus carp asleep from
low-light Howayan tribal stools humming
Shyly-Bino-Breachout Corpsicle.

Chet he plop three year ahead in sudden schlep,
solely due to laugh can pounding on heat-addled
traipsing tonic belief ingredients, kept closet ooze
his vestibule tell icon grapple him black to
prescient-daze ArchandTina.

Nod sew bland to be dislocated
hefty weigh around the globule;
lease he’s lauded on planet Dearth
in horror less hour timeline.
Shim what salvageable, by antsy
salivator’s standards.

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