Tag Archives: cosmos

Full Moon Rising

Posted on December 21, 2021 by John Biscello

Howling, to contract space for deeper emptying, to swallow moons whole.

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Posted on June 8, 2021 by John Biscello

Cosmic Lay Slick astronomy, moonlight drips between her thighs– The lay of space, mine.

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Cosmos

Posted on December 30, 2020 by John Biscello

To have an open dialogue with the cosmos through a sensitive antenna of a flower with lavender petals crowning my head was something I used to scoff at or dismiss. And now? I am a gardener, tilling seeds of moonlight … Continue reading →

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She Weeps

Posted on November 11, 2020 by John Biscello

Victory is the epilogue to squabble. And its prelude too. That is, when your bayonet plunges into the ribcage or spleen of another version of you, the moon weeps slow silver rivers of tears, unconsoled by the glitteringly indifferent stars, … Continue reading →

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Words, Silence, Music

Posted on November 10, 2020 by John Biscello

“Therefore, speak, speak at any price, say no matter what, since all words have equal value and all say the same thing, all repeat tirelessly the same call for help.” — Samuel Beckett If we are to take Mister Beckett … Continue reading →

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Moonstruck

Posted on October 29, 2020 by John Biscello

I never learned the secret delicious recipe of making a poem from moon, or the bluest glacial moon-cheese from any of my teachers. It wasn’t their fault. They might have regarded the moon as something distant, something belonging to astronauts, … Continue reading →

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Still Life w/ Selfie

Posted on May 11, 2018 by John Biscello

  How I, my ego-fiend-self, craves and wishes and desires to take ultimate credit for the words and poems attaching themselves to their mortal host, John Biscello, thinly grafted to his signature and persona, but deep down I understand all … Continue reading →

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Twine

Posted on May 9, 2018 by John Biscello

Stars, numinous beads and cursive drag of ghostlight outerwear, how God models etheric bling, and jazz, to catch the breath and flammable fancy of lovers, innocent by turns, falling, softly, softly, in twining burning pairs.

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Growing Young

Posted on April 2, 2018 by John Biscello

I want to grow young with you, she said. It made perfect sense. People had it all wrong. You don’t grow old, your body, this borrowed vessel, it withers and ages and decays, your body grows old, your brain grows … Continue reading →

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Benign

Posted on March 26, 2018 by John Biscello

Alighted, to course sweetly toward benign silence– To mend, flowers kiss.   (Watercolor by Henry Miller)    

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