Torch Song

does not express
asserts herself
with whatever force
is necessary
to explode
the billion screaming hearts
tendered from her wellsprung artistry.
does not engage in philosophy
or debates,
she, unbridled, the husbandless pagan,
teems and throbs
and pulses
and sculpts
and shapes
according to ingrown design,
to Mystery’s
magma-infused bones.
does not catalog
or subscribe,
her order is of the infinite variety,
the fathomless bask
refraining multitudes,
method to the madness
of her recursive cast
and die,
the consummate artist,
inhabiting every form and style,
supplying an endless bounty
and siege of mastepieces,
to cherish, in the way
a  wrinkly newborn stares burning
ancient pink into its mother’s eyes
for the first time,
the phenomena of torch
and duly revived.

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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