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 decree.
Piers, the nimbic embodiment
of all that there is, right now.
New Romanticism in the air.
Nocturne.
It’s what clouds eat for breakfast.
Posted in Books, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized
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Tagged clouds, John Biscello, nocturne variations, novel, piers, the new romanticism, waif, what gender are you not?
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Piers, at play,
in the swingland of shadows
and thinned veils.
Posted in Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized
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Tagged John Biscello, nocturne variations, novel, park, piers, shadow, swing, veils
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“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.
Posted in Books, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized
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Tagged angel, John Biscello, metamorphosis, nocturne variations, novel, november 2018, photo, piers, wings
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Piers, cloud-crowned,
reflectively slotted in her shadowlife.
Nocturne on the horizon.
Posted in Books, Poetry, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized
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Tagged clouds, John Biscello, nocturne variations, novel, november 2018, photo, piers, shadow
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Full cover spread of Nocturne Variations, coming this November.
Posted in Books, Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized
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Tagged book, cover design, John Biscello, nocturne variations, noir, novel, Surrealism, unsolicited press
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Veils thin, and purple,
to reveal those between worlds–
Do not be so sure.
Trudging through fresh dusk,
apparitions leave no prints–
twilight becomes them.
There are stories, chanced
to be heard in silent scars–
listen with your eyes.
Papa Hemingway,
gone to pot in Mexico–
to have and have not.
