Tag Archives: Blue

Into the Blue

Posted on December 22, 2020 by John Biscello

I have been scratching at air since I was a child, and have had the good fortune of feeling into words that have fallen out of thin blue nowhere– And these words I have gathered, or to put it more … Continue reading →

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Found Blue

Posted on October 25, 2020 by John Biscello

We do not enter the bluest hours, they come upon us, tender fugue and gallows silk, where we, in blatant trembling sheerness, are revealed to ourselves as the bated wisps between air and perish.

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Tread Softly

Posted on June 25, 2018 by John Biscello

I like them damaged, closer to real, the marrow in the blue void that seals hymns airtight, narrow interior dancing the hips and thighs to the gospel according to arson, the smolder and bake of flame-twisted wicks, I like where … Continue reading →

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Pour

Posted on April 15, 2018 by John Biscello

I get lost, looking, so much sky to soften course, so much light, slow poured.

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Feathers

Posted on April 15, 2018 by John Biscello

Song, caught in her hair, something about torn feathers, running, blue to form.

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Blue

Posted on March 25, 2018 by John Biscello

That year, in Paris, distant blue was all the rage– the clown’s mood thickened.   (Painting by Edward Hopper)

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Freeze

Posted on March 16, 2018 by John Biscello

Ice skating past dark, on a frozen pond, alone– Where they swam, last spring.   (Artwork by Mark Rothko)

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Kind of Blue, Too

Posted on March 9, 2018 by John Biscello

Spiders to Mozart, what luminous webs and notes we weave, snot-strands from God’s blown brass, tapestries of the eternal boombox, breakbeats to spacefolk to bebop within a deep forest kind of blue, the music, recorded or un, plays on and … Continue reading →

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Bulbs

Posted on March 9, 2018 by John Biscello

Incandescence, how bulbs aspire to fragrant gospel.    

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Keen

Posted on March 9, 2018 by John Biscello

Her secret refuge, at childhood’s keen edge, flirting with grace on the rim.

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