Tag Archives: John Biscello

Bliss-Following and Fool’s Play

To follow your bliss you must kiss your demons squarely on their mouths lancing their sealed lips with a flaming tongue perpetrating tango between worlds where love consumes every last thorny bit.

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Backroads

Traveling mapless backroads, I found heaven looking for me.

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Conscripture

It is not me you are looking for, it is you. We dress and undress as mirrors, conscripting images to burn and cherish, to reveal and reflect the many sides of a lighted front, a sideways turn, modeling love in … Continue reading

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Blue Moon Rising

You are you. The moon is the moon. Do not get confused. But remember … You are both meant to glow, without apology, beyond the veils and darkening scrim.

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Time-Stalkers

To stalk time is a fruitless exercise, a phantom’s unscratchable itch. And yet … within the process of stalking lies the power of invention, conduit to nuptial surges in sync with the secret odysseys we undertake to make of our … Continue reading

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Review of Invisible Ink

(Review of Patrick Modiano’s novel, Invisible Ink.) If there is a suitcase, forged documentation, café-life and tons of mileage accumulated tramping the streets of Paris, it’s a pretty safe guess that you are inside a Patrick Modiano novel. The French … Continue reading

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I Don’t Know

After I love you the three most powerful and talismanic words in the language might be I don’t know, instant reducer of ego, canal-cleanser for deeper listening, ventilator of humility and breathing room, not to mention a reverential nod and … Continue reading

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Glisten

It is sudden, this life, a billowing pop-up tent for the quick and the dead. And how true that, its frayed denouements of thread lead you back and back again through that labyrinth, its spool of yarn the ravels of … Continue reading

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You Say You Want a Revolution?

The secret to becoming a true revolutionary, lay yourself out upon the world’s limitless altar  of secrets, and praise the hidden roots of everything you encounter daily, heart bared as proof of light’s need to air.

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Naming Desire

Whoever I am, I have always depended on the kindness of words– such strange company, these solitary verses.

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