Fools-Day

In honor of April Fool’s, and to all the world’s wise fool mystics, beautiful innocents, and cliff-diving dreamers:
To marvel dumbly,
and trespass,
with a sense of the infinite
backlighting a wink–
this, the way of the Fool,
or sacred is as sacred does,
when trusting the air
in its holy relationship to plunge.
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What You Can’t See

Sunset, beading flashfire sparks
and gilded symmetry,
upon the gloss-dark wings of crows,
who, in brazen observance,
caw with religious fervor,
an airing
of lyrics intimately
vested to the secret lives of children,
walking home, winged.
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Transformation

There are times
when it is necessary
for the body to become its own cradle,
a nest-fed rocking
and grave trembling toward
the loam of ceremony
and siege,
and while transformation isn’t easy,
if you listen closely,
tender ear to the asking silence,
you will hear your fragile seeds
singing softly in the birthing dark,
of the bowing rites which precede
the fanning of ancient-new wings
to air and rise.

Transformation-Phoenix1

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Starfucking

It was driving me crazy.
I couldn’t stand the teasing anymore,
the eternal seductiveness,
so I fabled right through the roof
and into the capacious night-sky
to be with the stars, those luminous coquettes
and avatars of celestial elegance,
on whom I’ve had a crush
since god knows when.
I need to be with you,
I screamed myself blue and hoarse,
as I ascended fast
but not fast enough
for what I imagined would
be the tryst to end all trysts,
a liason which would thoroughly exempt me
from mortal fetters and worldly considerations.
An abstract longing to know pure feeling,
and grow texturally intimate with realms unseen,
had followed me straight out of the womb
and into this worldscape, an unsayable something
which had formed and remained
a clawing tenant in the heaven section of my gut,
and though I had scored my life with a litany of haunts
and diversions, no more! the time had come
to fable, untethered, nonstop, into the raven-gloss pools
of nightsky, and to bring the metaphysical yes yes yes
back to impossible consummation.
I am, at present, still ascending,
while the stars continue dispatching signals
to guide me toward the pinwheeling whorls of white fire
and etheric milkbaths.
There is nothing quite like the lore of universal attraction,
its magnetic sway not for the faint of heart.
In drawing nearer and nearer to my heart’s desire
beyond known desire,
I pray to shed gracefully my mortal coils,
and find myself, unabated,
a natural kink in the inviolable symmetry
of spatial breadth and lay,
i.e., a lovesick orphan
coursed to home
and cosmic parlay.

vincent-van-gogh-starry-night-3077

(“Starry Night” by Van Gogh)
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Lit Trailers

A series of trailers that were created for two of my novels: Broken Land and Nocturne Variations (Unsolicited Press).
Videos and music by Anthony Distefano.

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Nursery Bones

A radio play by John Biscello, originally aired on KNCE (Taos).
Existential burlesque in which layers are peeled and the past/present/future converge in the name of love everlasting.
Featuring John Biscello and Kirry Nelson, with music by Ben Wright.

 

 

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Upstart Scarecrow

Spoken Word (John Biscello), Bass (Ben Wright)
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Dietrich in Heaven

Spoken Word (John Biscello), Bass (Ben Wright)
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The Horse’s Mouth

Spoken word (John Biscello), Bass (Ben Wright)
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If Sylvia Plath and L.L. Cool J. Had Gotten Down

 

Spoken word (John Biscello), Bass (Ben Wright).
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