Category Archives: Poetry

Moon River, Winter Remix

Posted on November 13, 2018 by John Biscello

Ribbed, solitary leaf, cradled in frozen canvas, stray comma to the rivered language of glacial moon, that is where I find her, my love, spreading pure as the music of first snow.

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Arclight

Posted on October 20, 2018 by John Biscello

I am happy to announce that my debut poetry collection, Arclight, will be published in 2019 by Indie Blu(e) Publishing. More details to follow.

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Pique

Posted on October 18, 2018 by John Biscello

The infinite patience of a rose, its respiring pauses, is a secret vigil and rewrite, a lonesome serenade, heard only by hearts broken to light’s smoldering pique and shadow.

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Fade-In

Posted on October 18, 2018 by John Biscello

We are not here to tiptoe through the garden at night. We balance on the edge of a slow-whirling blade, a smooth silver plane with teeth, belonging to a star, unnamed, its heart a fiery proof and fade of joy … Continue reading →

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Decree

Posted on September 5, 2018 by John Biscello

If you are wondering what is happening to the earth, or what that sound is you hear at night, halfway between dream and mortar, rest easy, it is simply women waking up to move mountains, by order of the Moon’s … Continue reading →

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Nimbically Yours

Posted on August 30, 2018 by John Biscello

Piers, the nimbic embodiment of all that there is, right now. New Romanticism in the air. Nocturne.  It’s what clouds eat for breakfast.

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Swinger

Posted on August 30, 2018 by John Biscello

Piers, at play, in the swingland of shadows and thinned veils.

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Wings and Prayers

Posted on August 30, 2018 by John Biscello

“Armed with burning patience, we shall enter the splendid cities.”–Arthur Rimbaud Piers, rocking the morphlife, growing her wings. Nocturne rising. Pinkmilk dawn on its tender heels.

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What Dreams May Come

Posted on August 30, 2018 by John Biscello

Piers, cloud-crowned, reflectively slotted in her shadowlife. Nocturne on the horizon.    

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Veils

Posted on August 23, 2018 by John Biscello

Veils thin, and purple, to reveal those between worlds– Do not be so sure.

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