Tag Archives: love

Window for Two

Posted on August 9, 2022 by John Biscello

Do you plan to get up today Max? No Marge, you? I am up. You plan on staying up? No, just wanted a spot of tea. That’s very British of you. What is? A spot of tea . . . … Continue reading →

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The Source

Posted on May 8, 2022 by John Biscello

For mothers everywhere: Their hearts, registeredas infinite beacons,have gone gentlyand luminously into nightsnot so good and pitch-black, bravingflytrap folds and god-awful rowsto soothe, mend andrestore the bruised vitalsof daughters and sons;they go, infused with bright rage,green force driving homenocturnes and … Continue reading →

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Into the Blue

Posted on December 22, 2020 by John Biscello

I have been scratching at air since I was a child, and have had the good fortune of feeling into words that have fallen out of thin blue nowhere– And these words I have gathered, or to put it more … Continue reading →

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The Choice is Yours, or, Ch-Ch-Changes

Posted on November 30, 2020 by John Biscello

Make no mistake about it— We are, collectively, at a crossroads, one which clearly, sharply, and without suffering lightly any more of the same ol same ol bullshit is asking us as individuals— Are you going to remain in blame, … Continue reading →

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Night and Day

Posted on November 26, 2020 by John Biscello

In the fasting age of the world’s lengthy night, hunger for reclamation projects, and restoration of citing visions long overdue– all is stilled to know the suture of light, moving quietly across tenderest stitches, upon which symmetry is duly derived … Continue reading →

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Love Is

Posted on October 27, 2020 by John Biscello

I miss you already, the sun-kissed daisy whispered to the migrant flake of snow, which clung like a hopeful bead to the daisy’s delicate petal before dying a lover’s death and melting.

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Unmade

Posted on October 12, 2020 by John Biscello

Rumpled, with a sense of grave toil, and casual slips of crucial error– Was this what love meant, or did? Could that be all? The woman settled into the shape of her day, and pined for something remote and unspecified, … Continue reading →

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Rising

Posted on June 19, 2020 by John Biscello

Dreams, undeferred, coupled with Hope, that thing unfettered, to keep us company and warm our solitude, as we stumble bravely through a long night’s journey into the bated gospel of days rising to claim us.

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Butterfly, in Black and White

Posted on June 4, 2020 by John Biscello

Yesterday, before the fist-prints made their way onto the walls of the gallery as a show of solidarity, there was a moment, one of those small simple yet powerful moments which are easily dismissed or overlooked. Me, and my partner, … Continue reading →

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Touch

Posted on March 15, 2020 by John Biscello

On the day that grace re-entered the atmosphere, there was a hush, a sentient quilt of true silence, that covered the pooling plague of static which had made for ill communication, and everyone feelized deeply the limitless scope and range … Continue reading →

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