Category Archives: Poetry

Weight of Writing

Posted on December 7, 2020 by John Biscello

A row of teethmarks in the spine of a pencil– Stressing a sentence.

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Moonglow Under Review

Posted on December 7, 2020 by John Biscello

Grateful for Candice Louisa Daquin’s advance review of my new book of poetry, Moonglow on Mercy Street (due out soon from CSF Publishing). Moonglow on Mercy Street by John Biscello When you read a lot of poetry for a living, … Continue reading →

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Net

Posted on December 4, 2020 by John Biscello

No mantras for this– Fingers, a most delicate and provocative net, cast to capture the spreading pulse of someone else’s longing mirrored in your breath.

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Parting

Posted on December 4, 2020 by John Biscello

Hiding in plain sight, a lost kiss, unremembered to the parting of lips.

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Cadence

Posted on December 4, 2020 by John Biscello

Symmetry, as a caulk to the voracious appetite and carnal din of passion– Where the stitches tremble and falter, follow your pulse to the origins of cadent scarring.

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Performance

Posted on December 4, 2020 by John Biscello

Guttural streams of dream-rock in an amphitheater for the five senses and beyond– Here, at the liminal edges, you will find fire-kissed wildflowers applauding the performance by opening their volumeless mouths wide and swallowing whole the cathedral of sound, in … Continue reading →

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Peony

Posted on December 4, 2020 by John Biscello

This peony is an empty house/ In which each of us recaptures night. —Jean Laroche In the panting still of night, a peony, trembling, fragrant, blushing bright against the dark matted vines of memory, in which lovers, tangled and throbbing, … Continue reading →

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The Whisperers

Posted on December 3, 2020 by John Biscello

Nothing frightens a man firmly ensconced in false power more than a whisper. Volume, shouting, roaring, these reside within his comfort zone of conflict, but a marvelous whisper, connected to the unseen river of sound where many whisperers are called … Continue reading →

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It Begins With A Whisper

Posted on December 3, 2020 by John Biscello

In a world of far too many assassins, conducting strikes, consciously or un, on souls and their tenderest wilds, we need more whisperers, those miming the cursive gist of stars, willing to rise up in choir and share the stories … Continue reading →

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Housewarming

Posted on December 1, 2020 by John Biscello

“The already human being in whom I had sought shelter for my body yielded nothing to the storm. The house clung close to me, like a she-wolf, and at times, I could smell her odor penetrating maternally to my very … Continue reading →

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