Monthly Archives: May 2018

Course

Posted on May 20, 2018 by John Biscello

Water, its wisdom graded to flow, seeks its own level, you, soul-liquid in essence, symmetry to unknown, are there, beyond the kinks, crimps and wrinkles, a center, irreducibly empty, scored to choral interplay, wonder and chant, you, dream-host to the … Continue reading →

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Petals

Posted on May 20, 2018 by John Biscello

The white rose, impaled, knows itself beyond nomenclature and perish, inviolably Pure, a longing to feel the spring wind, and its alluvial fingers, upon bruised petals, fallen.  

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Confessions at the End of the Tunnel

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

   It was the very end of our relationship, when it was past the point of ever being good again.  We both knew it but neither one of us wanted to say it, because that would mean letting go and … Continue reading →

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Babytalk

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

(Story from Freeze Tag.) I had been dating Jeannie for two years and had been living with her for the past six months.  We had a place on 31st Street between Madison & Park Avenues and we could afford it because, … Continue reading →

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Fruit

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

(Story from Freeze Tag.)    L & S was a candy store and newsstand located on the corner of 60th St. and 18th Ave.  L & S, which stood for Louie & Son, was owned by Louie Varinella: a burly, slightly … Continue reading →

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Gravity Girls

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from Raking the Dust.) It was some time later, back at the drink rail, when I heard—Hey Spider-Man—and felt a hand press down on my shoulder. I turned around and there was Jose, his eyes a couple of pinkish slits … Continue reading →

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Portense

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

By fever, and sappy resin, proof positive that bodies, in thorny solder, invent new ways for souls to portend and commit arson.    

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She

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

She, the wrinkled pool of lusty glaze and somatic charge, of aural bouquets teasing cherry-bled sound and fragrance from whetted lips, fasting to shape a comely beckon, moon-fed by dark.

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Reckon

Posted on May 17, 2018 by John Biscello

You, true to your own scythe, perpetrate with fierce love, small necessary deaths, you, whispering sweet winged words of encouragement to your reaper, Hurry now, slowly, and bless my broken softly, bless every last ghost through the numinous host of … Continue reading →

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Intent

Posted on May 17, 2018 by John Biscello

Silence, the lighted bidding to know my own heart, to take a chance on every last fretted me I neglected to face, or boldly mention, to sow gaping closure with intent.  

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