Tag Archives: moon

Mount

Posted on May 31, 2018 by John Biscello

To sire a riptide, the roseblood moon, fully engorged, sank lower and lower, its binding navel grazing the lattice mouth and lacy tease of a sea forever beckoning softly creased light to charge and mount.  

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Trail

Posted on May 30, 2018 by John Biscello

My stubborn when growing sawteeth fierce as fuck rails against the moon and sun and sea and me bracing that double-edged notion to have to hold in trying to shape the music of air into something that leaves behind a … Continue reading →

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She

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

She, the wrinkled pool of lusty glaze and somatic charge, of aural bouquets teasing cherry-bled sound and fragrance from whetted lips, fasting to shape a comely beckon, moon-fed by dark.

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Communion

Posted on May 14, 2018 by John Biscello

She knows who she is, the one who placed a piece of the moon under my tongue when I wasn’t looking, now, when I speak of night, light follows, to gild my bated communion.

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Perigee

Posted on May 11, 2018 by John Biscello

It cannot be held in tongues, the veering arc of this perigee, ice-hot moon, rounded, throbbing to full, lightly crushing the sea’s glittering fount of lace.          

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Runes

Posted on May 10, 2018 by John Biscello

Hungry ghosts, gorging, moon-bellied, rending gristle from earthly scavenge— my god, these monsters and their appetites, swallowing illusions whole, to feed empty its runes of fire.

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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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Astro-Erotic

Posted on November 23, 2017 by John Biscello

Orion’s numinous belt undone on the sly by Cassiopeia’s nimble, flaring digits, as he proceeds to enter her whorling sphere of glacial fire spread lightly to produce cosmic aaaaaahs and oooohs, while the green-eyed Moon, papal and robust, records the … Continue reading →

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Kingdom

Posted on November 9, 2017 by John Biscello

In childhood’s kingdom, grace-slicked glee and romp– winter moon watching.

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Owl

Posted on November 8, 2017 by John Biscello

White owl, I sometimes wonder if you are an ancient, forgotten breed of swan plumped up on moonlight and mice, elegant dancer’s neck morphed into a tufty bulb, purveying the hidden wisdom of dark woods and underworld flights sourced to … Continue reading →

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