Monthly Archives: May 2018

Song of Hope

Posted on May 27, 2018 by John Biscello

They kill poets in these parts don’t they? When I got here I saw Walt Whitman’s wizened head out back impaled on a stake flies buzzing round its concomitant rot and stench I heard one of the locals say it … Continue reading →

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Print

Posted on May 27, 2018 by John Biscello

We, the intermediaries, the gilded abeyance, between holy fire and dreamless wake, we, each and every one, corpuscles, tendered to print in God’s colossal palm.

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Romanticism 101

Posted on May 27, 2018 by John Biscello

If I were there right there goggle-eyed and flame-pawed between her legs and she began secreting the deepest most lucid mirrors and glaze of honey waft of orange blossoms crushed and enmeshed in heavy musk would that appease my hunger … Continue reading →

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10:47pm

Posted on May 26, 2018 by John Biscello

It is times like this when I feel as if I’m on fire on the inside that I want to give a live play by play on process raw and unfiltered before it has a chance to cool off and … Continue reading →

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Ocean Song

Posted on May 26, 2018 by John Biscello

If you cut out my tongue I will grow a new one I have done it a dozen times before, if you deign to curse and steal my eyes go right ahead innervision has a long history of citing the … Continue reading →

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Twilight

Posted on May 26, 2018 by John Biscello

As a child I searched high and low for the right kind of magic to heal my mother’s pain never truly understanding how heavy the chains were nor how the forgers names etched in every link belonged to Legion claiming … Continue reading →

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Sintax

Posted on May 26, 2018 by John Biscello

There’s nothing sexier than a girl undressing in cursive to reveal the curves and loops of pure language squeezing every last drop from metaphor to exalt and fondle the core of similes standing in for skin and fire and other … Continue reading →

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Sunstroke

Posted on May 26, 2018 by John Biscello

There’s something about a girl baring flagrant cherish in the sunniest regions of hell that raises Eden to a four letter five alarm siege on skin and other vital parts prey to melting.  

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Childhood’s Wake

Posted on May 25, 2018 by John Biscello

You can feel it in the air, a razory sheen, all the childhoods that were lost or stolen or seized or buried to model catacombs and secret lairs, are returning to the surface bigtime, the reclaimants growing new teeth and … Continue reading →

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Burble

Posted on May 25, 2018 by John Biscello

To pour, unrestrained, Beauty in her cups, and burbling fount, a lasting refrain.

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