John Pursch’s most recent poem to appear here was Together (September 2012).

Awash
By John Pursch

Derring-do, stamen drew,
duly sunken haunted hand,
when dingy purple cuticles
shun forcing algae’s rhythmic
sand beneath a haughty sailor
frozen height becomes.

Yet, far above his chronic pallor
suds of sodden sturgeon hover
high in calm aridity,
polished grams that recall dryly
grinding teapot’s doughy dime,
brocaded cistern, wedge of salt
that culled his hoary body’s hull.

None too high, nor morphed to ample
nanoseconds drained to addled cravings
as the pulley’s beehive drones in heaven’s
attitude descends allergic, flooding sounds
of Queequeg’s votive liaison.

Turpitude in tolling bells
of burnished ingot odyssey,
shaving hands inured to cable
burn and scalding starry seas,
fraying rills to slush aweigh,
alike as dreaming hired hips
of swarming logic’s pewter fish
to wash ashore in deerskin daze.