Tag Archives: mother

A.I.

Posted on January 10, 2024 by John Biscello

Develop an A.I. mother. Ask the A.I. mother to raise and nurture you in the way that you always imagined you should have been raised and nurtured. Discard your previous existence, the first one, and install a legend around the … Continue reading →

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Nails

Posted on January 8, 2024 by John Biscello

Paint your fingernails in the way you imagine your daughter would paint your fingernails. Have a daughter to paint your fingernails. Paint your daughter’s fingernails into tiny moons. Blow on the moons until they are dry and without worry. Compare … Continue reading →

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Mirror

Posted on October 9, 2023 by John Biscello

From the series, Japan Poems. At a distance, daughter falls in love with the sea’s lacy fringes and shoreline’s bubbling secrets, while her mother holds up the sky as an undivided mirror, in which every chanced glimmer is hosted and … Continue reading →

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Moments

Posted on October 9, 2023 by John Biscello

From the series, Japan Poems. Boy, bedazzled by the sea’s opaline crush, Mother, in the sand-softened throes of respite, holding tenderest vigil, to recognize life’s sweetest ease in passing.

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Respite

Posted on October 3, 2023 by John Biscello

From the series, Japan Poems Fleeting intervals where a pause is magnified to widen one’s berth.

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Bone Jig

Posted on December 6, 2022 by John Biscello
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Cameo

Posted on November 16, 2022 by John Biscello

Our lot is a sorry one also blessed. None of us object. Out here we feast on slimming heaps of gratitude. No one is greedy. No one complains. We no longer expect answers from the answerless even though we keep … Continue reading →

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Bone Jig

Posted on November 11, 2022 by John Biscello

My mother’s bones. My mother’s bones resounding in my ears piercing my eardrums. Death rattle of the dusty gourd. Of the earth’s grief calling to us to restore. Calling upon us to become wardens attendants to vibrations crossing passages. To … Continue reading →

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Shadow Work

Posted on November 3, 2022 by John Biscello

When the girl was young she would practice spells, she would recite things she made up, verses of nonsense and babble born from the foam that would slather the edges of her mouth when imagining words, all this done to … Continue reading →

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Housewarming

Posted on December 1, 2020 by John Biscello

“The already human being in whom I had sought shelter for my body yielded nothing to the storm. The house clung close to me, like a she-wolf, and at times, I could smell her odor penetrating maternally to my very … Continue reading →

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