Tag Archives: love

Savor

Posted on January 2, 2018 by John Biscello

I was young, fevered and full of hope. My heart, green in its country, desired to push lightning through blooms, to cherish brightly in a thousand different directions at once. It was and always has been about rounding dreams from … Continue reading →

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Freezing Anya

Posted on January 1, 2018 by John Biscello

Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress. Anya and I had almost three weeks. The flirt and tease of a young forever. It felt good to be with Anya in this new way. We were no longer ourselves, we were ourselves … Continue reading →

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Yes

Posted on January 1, 2018 by John Biscello

The tenderest means to a true center is through loss accepted gracefully and yes praised.

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Ink

Posted on December 31, 2017 by John Biscello

Devotion, the day you ink small miracles in a palm not your own.

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Furls

Posted on December 31, 2017 by John Biscello

Feted, by an angel’s glassy hands, slow-burning river of sound, pooling white fire in rounded furls.

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Skein

Posted on December 31, 2017 by John Biscello

Intimacy, the skeining of desire bound by recourse.

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Clemency

Posted on December 31, 2017 by John Biscello

At love’s wake, Clemency, claiming the casualty of mask, bleeds gently the half-moon lids of pink and purpose, how we chance to fade into strangers at the risk of memory.

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Compass

Posted on December 31, 2017 by John Biscello

Abiding the testimonial of scattered crumbs and clefted petals, I will follow you the snaky length of impossible and hidden places; I will follow you, claiming the hem of your shadow as my guide.

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Timewarp

Posted on December 29, 2017 by John Biscello

I tell myself stories in the dark, Anya. It helps. Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it makes things worse. Or keeps everything the same. Which is a different kind of worse. It is scary once you realize that the past … Continue reading →

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Kissing Anya

Posted on December 28, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress.      I was hanging out in the schoolyard, by myself, throwing a Spalding against the wall. It was something I did to relax.    Anya breezed into the schoolyard. She was carrying a … Continue reading →

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