Tag Archives: poem

Round Trip

Posted on September 14, 2022 by John Biscello

There is a slow lasting burn on the road to heaven which admits meekness as a course of rightful inheritance, as a ringed torch song for reentry into the self dispossessed.

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Affair to Remember

Posted on August 12, 2022 by John Biscello

Sea, I never want to marry you. I want us to have a never-ending fling, a love affair flooded with longing and desire … I want to miss you … want to remain missably yours … want to miss you … Continue reading →

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Sentenced

Posted on August 12, 2022 by John Biscello

I, a lone comma pulsing within the voluptuous grammar of the ocean.

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Newsflash

Posted on August 11, 2022 by John Biscello

Heaven commits the meek to memory. Amnesia forgets itself to leaven the uninhibited rise of days lusting after dreams this side up.

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As Fate Would Have It

Posted on August 11, 2022 by John Biscello

“Fate will have it—and this has always been the case with me—that all the ‘outer’ aspects of my life should be accidental. Only what is interior has proved to have substance and a determining value.” — Carl Jung He knew … Continue reading →

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Moonstruck

Posted on August 9, 2022 by John Biscello

From scratch, we dig out what we think the moon owes us– Lore of attraction.

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As Below, So Above

Posted on August 3, 2022 by John Biscello

She came to me when I was a child. When I was two. An angel with massive wings which, when extended, generated a musical whoosh and siege of air that felt like a hurricane to my small world. My small … Continue reading →

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Fireflies

Posted on July 24, 2022 by John Biscello

All these stories– Fireflies in a garden, on a moonless night.

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Venus Infers

Posted on July 6, 2022 by John Biscello

Venus rising in frothy lace petticoats and sunkissed pearls, the seawear of golden seduction, and I, a lone comma pulsing within the voluptuous grammar of the ocean, I, a conjugal apprentice and disciple to all things invoking beauty to rapture.

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P.S.

Posted on July 5, 2022 by John Biscello

With tenderest regards to everything, to everything, we are a hymnal species of kissing cousins, from amoeba to Moses to the stunning narwhal, our sea tongues have touched upon the lush symmetry and limitless vibrato of a daringly molecular burlesque.

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