Tag Archives: lust

Savor

Posted on March 29, 2018 by John Biscello

It is that mouth, pursed, sentencing savor to burn, to kiss, between lines.

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Noveltease

Posted on March 11, 2018 by John Biscello

Tuesday afternoon, blowing off work to find his lover, in bed, fondling Madame Bovary’s text under the covers, literary flint and tease sparking his novel request–May I read between your legs?   (Photo by Henri Cartier-Bresson)

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Tryst

Posted on March 7, 2018 by John Biscello

Kiss me one last time, a Trinity collapsed– blown smoke and mirrors.   (Photo by Brassai)

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First Time, Forever

Posted on February 23, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.)    What are we gonna do with ourselves Daniel?    Like right now?    Like ever. Are you gonna go to college?    I don’t know, but I don’t think so.    Why you’re smart? … Continue reading →

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Burn While Reading

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Touch, how her body becomes a pulsing slate of Braille, your fingers, unfinished, running on

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Liason

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Adore, the charmed offspring of Love’s prickly liason with Innocence before it ripens and falls. 

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In Praise of Honey

Posted on February 19, 2018 by John Biscello

Listen to the spoken word track (with bass and flute) here. If your body, sungthru riddled and sticky, demanded rechristening for old time’s taste, down I’d go divebombin straight to and through the Source— a treebranch’s wellhung honeycomb totem, ridged bulb … Continue reading →

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Valentine

Posted on February 8, 2018 by John Biscello

Excerpt from Nocturne Variations:    From that point forward Piers and Teresa hung out nearly every night, getting drunk and stoned and completing each other in various ways.    An adverbially inflamed Teresa fell hard for Piers and loved her … Continue reading →

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Tendering Anya

Posted on January 7, 2018 by John Biscello

Anya and I started making out. It went on for a long, tangled while. I ventured to Anya’s breasts, smoothing my hands over them through her shirt. Then my hands went under her shirt and I was in exciting, unfamiliar … Continue reading →

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Miracle

Posted on January 5, 2018 by John Biscello

When kissing, we initiated our tongues to slow, deep, fevered tango, wresting the rabid miracle of pink from thin, slitted air.

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