Kin

There are chambers
inside myself
I have yet to discover
or visit,
for example,
that one room
rumored
to contain
a monk
in tattered robes
hunched over
a yellow table
benignly autistic
in his relations to text
and verses
which have held him
happily captive
for many lifetimes,
that monk,
a lighted fool
and legend
near to my heart
in all its lucid intimations
and engendered kin.

 

 

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About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, spoken word performer, and playwright, John Biscello now lives in Taos, New Mexico. He is the author of two novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale and Raking the Dust, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag. His fiction and poetry has appeared in: Art Times, nthposition, The Wanderlust Review, Ophelia Street, Caper, Polyphony, Dilate, Militant Roger, Chokecherries, Farmhouse, BENT, The 555 Collective, Instigator, Brass Sopaipilla, The Iconoclast, Adobe Walls, Kansas City Voices, and the Tishman Review. His blog--Notes of an Urban Stray--can be read at johnbiscello.blogspot.com. Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.
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7 Responses to Kin

  1. Me B is on poetic fire

    Like

  2. Mr B. As in you. Only you. You alone.

    Liked by 1 person

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