Tag Archives: body

Old and Young

Posted on September 12, 2025 by John Biscello

In the fairy tale the young girl slept for a long time and when she woke up she was old. She saw her old self in the mirror and was horrified, but also accepting. And a little in love. I … Continue reading →

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of sound mind and body

Posted on October 9, 2022 by John Biscello

bones grinding on. bones grinding. light on light. light on bone on light grinding. give us this day our daily savvy. this how our bodies shape music. make music. no names attached. mapless and hungry and eligible for fractures. bones … Continue reading →

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Wordburn

Posted on June 17, 2018 by John Biscello

Between the call of bodies, testing the ream of vocabulary’s limits, words exact their talent for slow burn, and quicken to replenish.

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Ocean Song

Posted on May 26, 2018 by John Biscello

If you cut out my tongue I will grow a new one I have done it a dozen times before, if you deign to curse and steal my eyes go right ahead innervision has a long history of citing the … Continue reading →

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Dare

Posted on May 9, 2018 by John Biscello

Shelling, till hips grafted a wild rush of air, bone rubbing against empty, this flint, improvising a dare.    

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Word/Less

Posted on May 9, 2018 by John Biscello

Where words fail, empty husks grifting air to blush, my tongue found the clefted hollow between her neck and shoulder, warm run of shivers, novel to the slip and touch.  

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Flagrant

Posted on April 24, 2018 by John Biscello

Prayer’s body to rent, exact in flagrant cherish– flesh struck to match, ssssssss.

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Mermaid

Posted on April 19, 2018 by John Biscello

Mermaid in torn jeans, sea glistening on her knees- Your myth is safe with me.

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Burn While Reading

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Touch, how her body becomes a pulsing slate of Braille, your fingers, unfinished, running on

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Tongue

Posted on November 7, 2017 by John Biscello

Celibacy upon the vulvic tongue, that faun purveyor of irreverent pink and solvent hymns, is a joyless sin against primordial yearnings, the Earth composes itself in mineral rhymes and licentious heavings, and so the tongue, caked in sensuous resin, divines … Continue reading →

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