Category Archives: Poetry

Moonglow on Mercy Street

Posted on November 18, 2020 by John Biscello

I am happy to announce that the hardcover edition of my new poetry book, Moonglow on Mercy Street, will be published in early December (CSF Publishing). Anyone potentially interested in reviewing the book for their blog, or other site/forum, please … Continue reading →

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Desire

Posted on November 18, 2020 by John Biscello

Within the rounded sermon of the inanimate, a favored coursing, by which light spreads its wordless fingers upon the world’s private longing.

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Could Be Heaven

Posted on November 18, 2020 by John Biscello

No sin of which to speak, always beginnings, rogue, feral, growing wild among the greenest seasons of fire and becoming, or, siring the form of a dancer dancing in the clouds, lightning at her feet, as the rain begins to … Continue reading →

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The Lighthouse and the Labyrinth

Posted on November 18, 2020 by John Biscello

A thousand and one labyrinths, maybe more, filled with the lost and forlorn, weeping, yet never losing sight of the hidden lighthouse, that favored legend of which rumors have prevailed, to guide the dreamers, in the way that secrets whisper … Continue reading →

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Heart Country

Posted on November 18, 2020 by John Biscello

“Imagination certainly is an entertaining thing to have—and it is great to be a fool.” – Georgia O’ Keefe She, in painting the bones and the blue while distilling, in tenderest strokes, the interior lives and longing of flowers, applied … Continue reading →

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A Thousand Women

Posted on November 16, 2020 by John Biscello

“I am not indifferent to the greater dramas hanging over us, but drama is everywhere the same, microcosm or macrocosm. It is not my destiny to live the drama of Spain, war, death, agony, hunger. It is my destiny to … Continue reading →

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Toy Story

Posted on November 16, 2020 by John Biscello

“Tedium . . . it’s perhaps, after all, the dissatisfaction of the intimate soul because we haven’t given it a belief, the desolation of the sad child we are deep down, because we haven’t bought him a divine toy.” – … Continue reading →

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American Alley

Posted on November 16, 2020 by John Biscello

“What absurdity.  There is not one novel of America.  There are a thousand Americas. Big Business is only one of its inhuman, monstrous products.  But jazz is the expression of America’s romantic self, its sensual potency, its lyrical force. Big … Continue reading →

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Them Blues

Posted on November 16, 2020 by John Biscello

“… the blues is an impulse to keep the painful details and episodes of a brutal experience alive in one’s aching consciousness, to finger its jagged train and transcend it, not by the consolation of philosophy but by squeezing from … Continue reading →

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Walkabout

Posted on November 13, 2020 by John Biscello

“My whole life has been little else than a long reverie divided into chapters by my daily walks”–Jean-Jacques Rousseau To ground, daily, these dreams of novel origins, bracing bold contact with rounded edges, off which falling is favored and soundly … Continue reading →

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