Tag Archives: John Biscello


In these parts, we mainline moonglow. It’s what we do. It’s our thing. We shoot moonglow directly into our veins and our blood becomes gospel as we start to sing hallelujah and glory-be— We dream daytime dreams of phoenixes burning … Continue reading

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Moonglow Reading

An invitation to join me at mi casa this Sunday, January 17th @ 4pm (MT), as I will be doing a live Zoom reading from my new book of poetry, Moonglow on Mercy Street.  This event is part of the SOMOS Poetry … Continue reading

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State of Address

A salon. After hours. Dimly lit. We see a red styling chair. Behind it are a counter and a wide mounted mirror. In the right upper-corner of the frame there are dismembered mannequins set against a wall. The salon OWNER, … Continue reading

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On the Nature of Daydreaming

In America, daydreaming is fast becoming an anachronism, and endangered species, with its habitats being destroyed, and its numbers in the wild decreasing at an alarming pace. Which raises the question– What would daydreaming’s extinction mean in relation to the … Continue reading

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A Love Poem

There are some lovers who, in the spacious means allotted by respect, green toward one another, as gardens hold reams of moonlight, without constraint or undue possession.

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Root Cause

The offshoots of roots spread everywhere under your feet. They are the architectural tentacles of a magnificent culture. Ground there. It is the tended prelude to most solid flight plans.

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Dr. Seuss Meets Buddha

Building a rocket-ship of a meditation chair, low to the ground, in my sawdust workshop of a heart chamber, so as to comfortably leave my body and astrally roam with medicinal curiosity— Oh, the places you’ll go!

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There are some of us, a strange lot, who enjoy rolling around in spools of text and bathing in wet ink— for fun, for pleasure. It is not a recommended past-time, but rather one that is born from the necessity … Continue reading

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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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Death Rides In On A Pony

When Death showed up on a broken-down pony, I scoffed. This, really? What, Death said, looking around, unsure as to who or what I was referring. You’re Death, right? Yes. THE Death? You can check my I.D. And you’ve come … Continue reading

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