Tag Archives: poem

Glean

Posted on December 18, 2017 by John Biscello

It came to me, a pensive glean, a vision. Tomorrowtime when we, the Inners, will no longer just be metaphysical whispers  or codified concepts. Tomorrowtime when the Outers will have found the means to extrapolate us, to call us into … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Golem

Posted on December 18, 2017 by John Biscello

To become more or less human, and right now I am less, much less, palsied, unlit, a compulsory golem riveting shallows and depths.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Dark

Posted on December 16, 2017 by John Biscello

I. I have begun to name and catalogue the different types of dark. It helps. Warm-dark, cave-dark, void-dark, womb-dark, sleep-dark, Eros-dark, blank-dark, siege-dark, and there is the anonymous dark that gets in your head and behind your eyes and in … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Dance

Posted on December 16, 2017 by John Biscello

I get so sleepy and restless and roiled and charged. If only they knew what they called world was simply a clusterfuck of particles dreaming of dance partners.

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Arclight

Posted on December 16, 2017 by John Biscello

Bidden by tatters, and gravity’s mutable arc, the palpitations guide me. They are subtle, duly engaged, a milk-slow run of shivers. Bracing the rim, I peer out of cavedark: everything is sudden, color-soaked, a ferocious din and melt, fringed shawls … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Deluge

Posted on December 15, 2017 by John Biscello

It is both pleasure, and an epitaph to pleasure, at the same time. When the phenomena occurs and the colors run and slash and slit down upon me in ravels of deluge. Spring-green, shell-pink, sky-blue, bled-red, egg-heaven, grief-yellow. I, a … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Pour

Posted on December 15, 2017 by John Biscello

So much light poured in, so much passive worth.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Draft

Posted on December 15, 2017 by John Biscello

There are no mirrors here, yet everywhere I see myself, a bated draft of furls, each bearing the right to exist, and respire ably.

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Godot Vs. God

Posted on December 15, 2017 by John Biscello

In Godot’s waiting room, Heaven-rent, the vacancy sign had been converted into a living epitaph for people choking on bated breath: Here tomorrow, gone today.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sober Judge

Posted on December 13, 2017 by John Biscello

Dylan Thomas falls from his barstool in Heaven— God, tending bar, picks him up, turns to Job—Who am I to judge?

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment