Monthly Archives: June 2018

Of Dogs & Gods

Posted on June 4, 2018 by John Biscello

I’d like to be the kind of person my soul knows I am.

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Kiss

Posted on June 3, 2018 by John Biscello

In the resident smolder of lips, a seared prelude, announcing blatant recourse to the sheerest intent.    

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Lull

Posted on June 3, 2018 by John Biscello

Sometimes, even the light, in its radiant parry and thrust, needs to be laid down, in order to receive, openly, the starried lull of brokenness.

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Last Thought, Best Thought?

Posted on June 3, 2018 by John Biscello

You are only as free as your last thought. Think again.

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Pyre

Posted on June 3, 2018 by John Biscello

How many confessions and scalpels does it take to purge oneself of guilt associated with transgressions, some imaginary, some real, Legion, baited and ingrown, to seal your innocence in a decidely deep vault, containing an inheritance of bones, which take … Continue reading →

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Slowtorch

Posted on June 3, 2018 by John Biscello

Beneath the cauterized furies, and unspent silences, amounting to greater deficit, there is, and always has been, at heart’s nimbus base, a soft, wistful melancholy, not unlike the adagio threads of rain silvering the opened palms of a small child, … Continue reading →

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In My Solitude

Posted on June 3, 2018 by John Biscello

It is, for me, as well as other writers of a certain breed, a familiar haunt and barbed echo, that fear of being found out and exposed as a fraud and imposter, some busted metaphor that won’t hold up under … Continue reading →

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Glistening

Posted on June 2, 2018 by John Biscello

It is sudden, this life, a billowing pop-up tent for the quick and the dead. And how true that, its frayed denouements of thread lead you back and back again through that labyrinth, its spool of yarn the ravels of … Continue reading →

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Ghostlight

Posted on June 2, 2018 by John Biscello

It could be like this. Early morning, light milkpooling at the edges of your bed, dawnfrost bleaching your bare feet and subtly wriggling toes softly phantom, and I follow the erogenous ghost past your shins, to the rounded pate of … Continue reading →

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Wildflowers

Posted on June 1, 2018 by John Biscello

The child in me the fire carrier has always wanted to love big with no barriers or wind tunnels or bubble-clots to gum up the flow. I think maybe this is the Paradise whose greenest tips I have grazed and … Continue reading →

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