Category Archives: Poetry

Lucent

Posted on July 4, 2022 by John Biscello
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Slippers

Posted on July 2, 2022 by John Biscello

The world has become an enormous mouth. Or a senile teenager fumbling with a fire sale chemistry set. Silence, and solitude, arouse their favored ebb within the subtle gloam of twilight. Twilight is a meek and intrepid lover, an inscrutable … Continue reading →

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Twilight

Posted on June 30, 2022 by John Biscello

Twilight is seductively meek. Every day, at day’s end, it inherits the earth through valentine quivers and softcore volitions of symmetry— the sky, at its supple mercy, bruises so easily, pale liminal purple adoring the tenderest wounds between lovers merging … Continue reading →

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Citation

Posted on June 30, 2022 by John Biscello

Tablatures of light engraved in your palms by eyeless angels once upon a time when yes was yes and waves were forms serve as source citation while hosting vividly the fact that your hands are the temples which can be … Continue reading →

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For Melody’s Sake

Posted on June 24, 2022 by John Biscello

It is a call, a calling. Lost voices committing mutiny to service seasons unknown— Strange wingless angels of mercy and memory, the blue ones, sounding the call, a calling. Melody hosts its own discipline, and we, the fragile disciples of … Continue reading →

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Analog

Posted on June 23, 2022 by John Biscello

Light. Like ten thousand fingers scaling the arpeggios of lives minted and scattered— the autobiography of days demanding their own masks— and we, the weepless ones, dry and several worlds removed, drown in the riptides of bass and metaphor within … Continue reading →

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Days of Mourning

Posted on June 21, 2022 by John Biscello

She wasn’t sure how she had become days of mourning. It began with a pall, a thick viscous scrim that changed what she saw, sawed herself into halves and quarters and post-dissection she noticed days had turned into weeks into … Continue reading →

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Changing Room

Posted on June 17, 2022 by John Biscello

Advertisements for astronauts in fish-net stockings, and you, tobacco-stained fingertips, a scholar of whistling, salacious in the way you used to spit brown juice into the wind, expecting to not get hit— those were the days, I sighed to my … Continue reading →

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Altar Piece

Posted on June 17, 2022 by John Biscello

We are the stunning brides of tomorrow, dressing up for ritual matrimony in an airless church where children laugh and hurl gulls of rice, and the candles, matching light to symmetry, never go out.

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Eye Test

Posted on June 17, 2022 by John Biscello

Within the eye of the volatility of metamorphosis, a shuttering, and sacral budding, that speaks in tongues to the fragile wonder of age-new revelations, respiring.

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