There is no secret,
no magic this
or that, or know-how manual
to guide the process
to betterment,
it is, I believe,
simply a matter of paying attention,
to people, flowers, sand, stones,
dolls, puddles, dreams,
first and foremost your own,
its calling
nothing short of love
wanting to know itself
heard and fulfilled,
I have found
that attention charitably paid
reaps the greatest dividends,
entire worlds, hidden, unseen,
green and warm and blossom,
a swelling, lidless
in its capacity to grow.

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 three novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, and Nocturne Variations, 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 Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.
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3 Responses to Blossoms

  1. Okay, now you’re just beautiful.
    In case you weren’t aware


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