Tag Archives: longing

Fly by Night

Posted on October 14, 2021 by John Biscello

Longing does not require a precedent, or even a known catalyst. It is, in its purest form, the solvent call of homesickness, which is why our hearts, in their cause and breaking, claim the smallest birds as stars, and the … Continue reading →

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There Was a Time

Posted on October 14, 2021 by John Biscello

Coiled within the echo and ceremony of longing, I tremble between memory’s flitting tease of my belly and hers, how they almost touched, erring a slow burn course by which the word made flesh could stalk itself, from a favored … Continue reading →

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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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Peony

Posted on December 4, 2020 by John Biscello

This peony is an empty house/ In which each of us recaptures night. —Jean Laroche In the panting still of night, a peony, trembling, fragrant, blushing bright against the dark matted vines of memory, in which lovers, tangled and throbbing, … Continue reading →

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The Lighthouse and the Labyrinth

Posted on November 18, 2020 by John Biscello

A thousand and one labyrinths, maybe more, filled with the lost and forlorn, weeping, yet never losing sight of the hidden lighthouse, that favored legend of which rumors have prevailed, to guide the dreamers, in the way that secrets whisper … Continue reading →

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Wistful

Posted on November 12, 2020 by John Biscello

“It was back into the mind of the young man with cardboard soles who had walked the streets of New York.  I was him again—for an instant I had the good fortune to share his dreams, I who had no … Continue reading →

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Autumn

Posted on November 9, 2020 by John Biscello

I close my eyes and I see her again, a silhouette, near to distance, and dissolving– the autumn rain taps its seminal code for longing onto the trembling glass of a window closed.

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Transcience

Posted on October 26, 2020 by John Biscello

Where were you last night, my dreams asked of my silence— Between worlds, I longed.

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Throb

Posted on October 23, 2020 by John Biscello

It is the caste of throb in which words, palpitating, line up to serve a poem’s desirous need to know your longing as an open source.

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In Search of Lost Time

Posted on September 18, 2020 by John Biscello

A meditation on memory, longing, storytelling and spiritual homesickness.

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