Dylan Thomas

Posted on August 30, 2017 by John Biscello
dylan III
He, master of waves,
sang in his chains like the sea–
awful row with God.
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Bloom

Posted on August 30, 2017 by John Biscello
dust IV
By sheer white volume,
ghost of a chance to grow wild–
Ophelia’s rogue bloom.
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Limbs

Posted on August 29, 2017 by John Biscello
dust III
Limbs by autumn light,
skeleton jig in the round–
Curtain rises, falls.
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Rise

Posted on August 29, 2017 by John Biscello
dust II
She will rise again,
too many seeds claim her kin–
praise for tender shoots.
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Footnote

Posted on August 29, 2017 by John Biscello

dust I

Civilization,
compromised in the center,
closed in on itself.

 

 

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Duke Ellington

Posted on August 29, 2017 by John Biscello
duke
Plein air’s noble brush
with greatness composed to stand–
notes, in hand, passed on.
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A Hard Case

Posted on August 29, 2017 by John Biscello
doppelganger II
The other woman
is not always who you think–
matching fingerprints.
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Still Life, Running

Posted on August 28, 2017 by John Biscello

dongen-coquelicot

There’s something disarming
about a girl
in a red hat
with dark eyes
and blood petal lips
pursed tight
sitting in a gilded cafe
looking back
every time
the blue door opens
dreaming boldly
of escape
if only
if only
she had been painted
with legs.

 

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Dietrich

Posted on August 28, 2017 by John Biscello
dietrich IV
Bygone sorcery,
fingertips emitting smoke–
When arson was queen.
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Bisect

Posted on August 28, 2017 by John Biscello
di chirico IV
Embryonic love,
between consenting figments–
Ovum, bisected.
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