Tag Archives: poem

Holy holy

Posted on December 26, 2018 by John Biscello

By turns, the sworn blue tenor of lyric and charge, a few simple words warmed over in holy bask and offered to the close-knit belles and folds of slow-felt darkness, a writer’s pinkish interior gauze to hem the silvery saying … Continue reading →

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Odyssey the Remix

Posted on December 26, 2018 by John Biscello

You don’t need a ship and exile, or filial fate and distance, to qualify homesickness– the odyssey is a cellular trip, always has been, its bounds limitless, its lyrical content specifically tailored to your individal course and movements, and so … Continue reading →

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Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Posted on December 26, 2018 by John Biscello

Right now so many of us functioning as cheerleaders in an existential maternity ward showing love and support for our friends and loved ones, for our own tenuous selves, as we rebirth into new forms, as we undergo necessary metamorphoses, … Continue reading →

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Candles for Henry Miller

Posted on December 26, 2018 by John Biscello

Happy birthday, Henry Miller! “One’s destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.”–H. Miller Some men rattle their chains and wonder, some sing them. Then there are others who spraypaint their chains rainbow siege … Continue reading →

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Calling

Posted on December 25, 2018 by John Biscello

The invitation came out of thin, seeding air– Your life needs you, now.

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Icebreaking in the New

Posted on December 24, 2018 by John Biscello

It is in that glacial place, the skinned heart of ice country, where the miracle rush of stilled water charges the aspiring craft and wonder of veins, it is there that you will come to understand the value of dancing … Continue reading →

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How Winter Springs

Posted on December 24, 2018 by John Biscello

Garden caked in snow, single charmed rose, metaphor to give hope its due.

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Zuzu’s Petals

Posted on December 23, 2018 by John Biscello

A father’s pocket, containing secret petals— the meaning of love.

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The Marvelous

Posted on December 22, 2018 by John Biscello

If there are better prayers than laughter, dancing and touch, I have not found them, to know our true legacies as electric beings binging in limitless pools of dreamjazz, is to pray the wilds with glimmering abandon, to dare our … Continue reading →

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Wakefulness

Posted on December 22, 2018 by John Biscello

We are bibless children in a cosmic playpen dribbling starjuice and spitting up blood hoping our mothers any mothers will come and clean it up before the deluge orphans us to the jarring rift of dreamless wake.

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