Tag Archives: poem

What Did I Miss?

Posted on June 24, 2019 by John Biscello

Fall in the city. A building offers the glyphic runes of a tectonic language in relief that goes unnoticed by the woman who has just seen her lover listening to another woman closely.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Lighting Scheme

Posted on June 24, 2019 by John Biscello

Illuminated, but with razors, the shadow found a face to give its cinematic debut a twist on types fitted to escape plans in small, forgotten rooms.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Fall in the City

Posted on June 24, 2019 by John Biscello

There were too many pieces to the puzzle, too many keen faults in the symmetry. She locked eyes with the darkened window of the building across the street, and when vertigo took the elevator down to meet her where she … Continue reading →

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Here’s Looking at Us

Posted on June 16, 2019 by John Biscello

Is this not the art and trick to being human, and in love? A matter of perspective, a rooted widening, wherein distances harbor the marvels of intimacy in rapt enclosure?

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Coquetry

Posted on June 16, 2019 by John Biscello

The sea’s salt-fringed skirt glistens, while flashing rare pearls- Shoreline pants, waiting.    

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What Lasts

Posted on June 16, 2019 by John Biscello

Renewal, in nuptial surges and capered bibs of froth; the stones, studded to shore, ennoble the silence of their music to the fondling sea, mates playing freely on the wild fadeless cusp of here and forevermore.

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Hypnotherapy

Posted on June 14, 2019 by John Biscello

The most curious eye, voracious in its wandering, seals volumes of air for Imagination to digest and respire in.

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Transients

Posted on June 14, 2019 by John Biscello

She was a matter of falling, and scaling the air, and I, street to her clouds, abandoned myself to growing realer and realer in vivid contrast to her sofly fading out and in.

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As Below, So Above

Posted on June 13, 2019 by John Biscello

Katabasis, or downgoing, is an ancient practice with no set course or singular pattern; every human, in their own time, at their own pace, braves the simple, necessary steps to align the air of metaphor with foolproof grounding, en route … Continue reading →

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Tryst

Posted on June 12, 2019 by John Biscello

The sea’s lacy fringe flirts with the glistening shore in the shadow of pines.

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