Tag Archives: John Biscello

Hemingway in Mexico

Papa Hemingway, gone to pot in Mexico– to have and have not.

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Hotel Story

Where she fell in love, a red-lettered memory of palms holding sun.

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Haunt

Even last call could not keep the dead away from their favorite haunt.

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Ghost Story

Running on empty every voice wondered where its body had gone.

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Pitch

The cave witch’s broom, flares–All those who enter here shall know nightmare’s pitch.

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Witness

Inspiration, when two worlds converge, unplanned, and you serve as witness.

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Parcel

Dreams washed up on shore, all part of Beauty’s parcel, to move us, then fade.

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Kite

If I were a kite, and you a cloud, I’d milk wind for a stolen kiss.

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Genius

The sea, as alchemist, storyteller, artist, and instant mythmaker all rolled into one, has no equal. Here we find an abstract shoreline flower, whipped up from silt and minerals and other Neptunal residue, and bearing a wellplaced stoneface of magnetic … Continue reading

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Wavelength

Michelangelo met Neptune, and they sculpted on the same wavelength.

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