Tag Archives: poem

As if Ghosts

Posted on May 16, 2026 by John Biscello

She, as in ghosts, as in white-hot incubi with a seductive glassy not there stare, it bewitches and allures, bears melancholy freighted with scraped knees and mirror shards. There is a lucid unblinking poise, calculated reserve composed of crystal and … Continue reading →

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Haunt

Posted on May 16, 2026 by John Biscello

She, as in ghosts, the seductive glassy not-there stare making you long for what has passed, or is passing— Séance, persuasive in its call and touch, a cheat code flirting with disaster, or remnants haunting thereafter.

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Loom

Posted on May 15, 2026 by John Biscello

In the manic solitude of invention and bloom, I shutter to think, therefore I scam, hustling room for one’s own company to keep you, casting, in fuckable thrall.

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Rivet

Posted on May 14, 2026 by John Biscello

Here, papering over hovel origins of wounds and silence with words riveting on and on and on, dirty frayed bandages panting staccato and weary in the wind, yet never losing voice, nor the canopied capacity for mime in the manic … Continue reading →

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Scroll

Posted on May 13, 2026 by John Biscello

Clouds, fleecy in glaring mass– softly, softly, the words avail themselves to silence in passing.

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Eyes

Posted on May 13, 2026 by John Biscello

I could not stare into anyone’s eyes too long. It was like staring openly at the sun. The light was too much to bear. Not to mention, within the stunning field of light projected from eyes were congealed specks and … Continue reading →

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Endangered

Posted on May 13, 2026 by John Biscello

The author in me died a lonely long-time-ago death. He was too singular to adapt and stay alive in this new-moving world of word-species and endangered text.

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Bough

Posted on May 11, 2026 by John Biscello

At day’s end, the bough breaks, the cradle falls, the songbird returns, and the dreamer watches it all spiring in neutral.

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Domain

Posted on April 20, 2026 by John Biscello

In the latent vernacular of gist— mind breaths in space time crystallized as rapt intimacies give the dreaming voice its human due and proof of residence— Fading tracks the ghostly course of diminishing returns within a poem’s lasting domain and … Continue reading →

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Glaze

Posted on April 15, 2026 by John Biscello

Solitude waxing blankly in the company of words— Moon’s forecast: warm, gospel, and fuzzy.

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