Born Blues

I am

the foster child

of rampant insular lyricism.

In it

I was raised wild

and came meekly to regard the moon

as a shotgun blast

from the mouth of eternity.

I, setting core to task, get greedy, rabid,

blood being a magnificent lure and cakewalk

for werewolves on the prowl.

My pupils enlarge at the sight

of unremembered lyrics, wounded, bluesy,

coming out of the woods

to find suitable placement.

I am, left behind myself,

a scorched earth child of second winds

and orphaned nonsense—

birth being a terribly continuous ordeal

of outgrowing origins.

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.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s