Tag Archives: God
On the night God went topless, and the nephilim performed a burlesque of Carmen, or perhaps it was the Wizard of Oz, the girl with the frosted tulips in her hair, and love song in her head, turned off the … Continue reading
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
Hungry ghosts, gorging, moon-bellied, rending gristle from earthly scavenge— my god, these monsters and their appetites, swallowing illusions whole, to feed empty its runes of fire.
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.
Writing, some kind of lisp, and stutter, to chance God’s breath, as your own, to cherish.
All the pearly angels, torn, and wept, like so much confetti in a storm, papering a small world, where heaven closed off to rapt, and cherish got hopelessly lost.
The last time I fornicated with an angel my porchlights blew and we became tranluscent sheets of merger rising above a glassy pool of chartreuse reflecting in cursive the lighted gist of our holy remains. God, I’m open to another … Continue reading
Form-fitted to God, the Muse brought in her posse– Room for improvement.
Breath, you are my true master, and I, your borrowed disciple, graced by the slow dignity of equal measures, allotted free of charge, if attention is paid, with sincerest regards.