Palladium Ponds by John Pursch

Only to let loose, hand to smithereens evolving golden crock of sinking coal beneath imploding subway skies to salivating surety of escalated pump house wheeze, impounding ideation shills to shiver once in corpse of normal hoping drain or daring anger, dangerous diminutive a somehow unseen gravel cop to pleated barmaid fantasy of barricaded hospitals or freedom fog horn foolery in feedbag cinch indignity to unturned impropriety of stony inquisition.

Finally, on seizure street, fault again the unshelled clone of tropical indecency, allusion ilk or urchin kin to kinked occurrence lifeline brood of loudly carried kindergarten sell-out. Frosted dateline comes to melting floe by blowing whitecap homing gypsy, way too fancy pumpernickel streams of candied sanctuary, glossy spin penumbral wheat to fielded crumple, ghostly banter echo township, salient eroded.

Bumbled magi fall in paged but sallow tongues to salt machines, eerie tower traction distance pulling out of deprecated impulse camp, carp erupting into horny coded neigh, skull capitulation crimp, occipital in sutured crease of natural imbibement.

How can conifers confuse contusion quilts for simmering centurions, palladium ponds, utterly unplanned, by now diurnal disinfectant drop of randomized determinacy? Who can know a unifying smell, a taunt, a travesty of sheer intent, a reckless fleck, identifying smirk, remark uncalled for, whittled speech, witless ambling orbit of intrusive truth or telling rattle, heartsick feel, froth of gentle hand?

Stilling even printed noise, elided note, steady footfall treadmill mote, mossy crawl to elemental blasphemy, if such a concept even makes emotive sense today.

John Pursch
John Pursch lives in Tucson, Arizona. Twice nominated for Best of the Net, his work has appeared in many literary journals. His most recent book, Intunesia, is available in paperback at Check out his experimental lit-rap video at Follow his work @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.

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