-
Archives
- January 2026
- December 2025
- November 2025
- October 2025
- September 2025
- August 2025
- July 2025
- June 2025
- May 2025
- April 2025
- March 2025
- February 2025
- January 2025
- November 2024
- October 2024
- September 2024
- August 2024
- July 2024
- June 2024
- May 2024
- April 2024
- February 2024
- January 2024
- December 2023
- November 2023
- October 2023
- September 2023
- August 2023
- May 2023
- March 2023
- February 2023
- January 2023
- December 2022
- November 2022
- October 2022
- September 2022
- August 2022
- July 2022
- June 2022
- May 2022
- April 2022
- March 2022
- January 2022
- December 2021
- November 2021
- October 2021
- September 2021
- August 2021
- July 2021
- June 2021
- May 2021
- April 2021
- March 2021
- February 2021
- January 2021
- December 2020
- November 2020
- October 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- March 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- December 2018
- November 2018
- October 2018
- September 2018
- August 2018
- July 2018
- June 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- February 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
-
Meta
Monthly Archives: November 2017
Virginia Woolf
Through a glass, darkly, splitting of selves by prism– Wide berth for one’s I.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dark, glass, haiku, I, John Biscello, Literary, lyricial, Mirror, poem, Poetry, prism, reflection, room of one's own, virginia woolf, writer
Leave a comment
Mother, Daughter
Mother, without your touch, blood-lush access to eternity’s grasp, I am rudderless, and adrift, in a world that shits on innocence. ………………………………….. Daughter, without you to hold, a promise illumined into love’s totem, I am sunless, and moonless, a stray … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Artwork, blessing, bond, Cris Qualiana Basham, daughter, devotion, John Biscello, love, mother, mother and daughter, painting, poem, Poetry, red, soul, spirit, touch, woman and child
2 Comments
Kingdom
In childhood’s kingdom, grace-slicked glee and romp– winter moon watching.
Lullaby
Hear the bleached creaking, of chafed slats upon silence– Winter’s lullaby.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Andrew Wyeth, fence, haiku, John Biscello, landscape, lullaby, poem, Poetry, silence, snow, sound, tree, Winter, winter scene
Leave a comment
Snowflakes
Dark holy silence, the fattest snowflakes are popes– no pulpit required.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged cold, dream, frost, haiku, John Biscello, poem, Poetry, pope, season, snow, snowflakes, spirit, streetlamp, Winter, winter daydream, woods
Leave a comment
William Faulkner
Moon turning blood-red, tides roiling, writer signs crosses to stand Time’s test, sound and fury bridled through carnal lightning and soil of pen.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged crosses, genius, gothic, John Biscello, lightning, Literary, literature, lyricism, pen, poem, Poetry, script, sound and the fury, southern, time, timeless, william faulkner
Leave a comment
Owl
White owl, I sometimes wonder if you are an ancient, forgotten breed of swan plumped up on moonlight and mice, elegant dancer’s neck morphed into a tufty bulb, purveying the hidden wisdom of dark woods and underworld flights sourced to … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged bird, John Biscello, messenger, moon, moonlight, nocturnal, omen, owl, poem, Poetry, sight, swan, totem, underworld, vision, white owl
Leave a comment
Kissing
She told me, and I quote: “As a pagan-gnostic-pop-mystic, my religion is kissing– the ground, stones, twigs, children’s nubby fingers, hems of clothing, mouths.” To prove her word devout, she kissed me on the lips, then deeper, and I received … Continue reading
Tongue
Celibacy upon the vulvic tongue, that faun purveyor of irreverent pink and solvent hymns, is a joyless sin against primordial yearnings, the Earth composes itself in mineral rhymes and licentious heavings, and so the tongue, caked in sensuous resin, divines … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged anatomy, body, earth, earthy, erotic, hymn, John Biscello, licentious, lust, pan, poem, Poetry, sensuality, sex, sin, tongue, yearning
Leave a comment
John Biscello 