Category Archives: Poetry

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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This is No Ism of Any Kind

Posted on June 1, 2022 by John Biscello
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Giantess

Posted on June 1, 2022 by John Biscello

Between bewildered, and the wildest seasons of time and longing, she derived dreamily the spatial pulse of God’s somnolent core.

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Stars

Posted on June 1, 2022 by John Biscello

To glean, unerringly,the ripe maternal geniusof soil,she took lucid stockof her originsas a glamorous peasantfrom the cursive fiestaof stars–Words, as sacrosanct bond,became her,if only to negligeethe remote and hidden contoursof her fable unending.

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