Tag Archives: poem

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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Tis the Season

Posted on December 21, 2018 by John Biscello

In the enormous unchambered charity of the heart I found a season, stripped and flagrant and seeded to praise, matching light to its own dark, initiating a holy run of embers and symmetry, wombkind’s respiring reset, through which dreams usher … Continue reading →

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Fred and Ginger’s Step-children

Posted on December 20, 2018 by John Biscello

There is a stunning and original reciprocity that takes place when two people are moved to dance while holding hands with only air beneath their feet.

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No Answers Needed

Posted on December 20, 2018 by John Biscello

What would it be like to immerse fully in glory-be, the phoenix scatting heraldic firewalk bop through a veil of scattered ashes, a sound bath comprising a plasmic cake of purple bubbles and mint slather, what would it be like … Continue reading →

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Impersonally Yours

Posted on December 19, 2018 by John Biscello

The green woman, dressed in fire, came to me again  last night and affirmed– While not taking anything personally is quite a feat for one to accomplish, imagine just imagine a world within where you no longer take yourself personally, … Continue reading →

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Can You Dig It?

Posted on December 18, 2018 by John Biscello

So many souls as buried cathedrals yet look closely and even the barest hint of broken spire peeking out from beneath the rubble and tomb-swell will tell you that an elaborate structure of magnificence and wonder is waiting to be … Continue reading →

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What If?

Posted on December 18, 2018 by John Biscello

What is imagination but a continual granting of permission-to-self to free-associate beyond constraints, blockages and moral codes, to bob and float, weave and flow, in a wine-dark sea of dreams, to riff like a muthafucka whose fleabitten firepants are down … Continue reading →

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Autumn

Posted on December 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Find a yellow leaf, a golden leaf, a leaf that’s mourned its own falling. Name it. Whisper its name to it, kiss it. Unname it, whisper silence to it, kiss it again. Fling the leaf and watch it dance in … Continue reading →

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Nightwatch

Posted on December 4, 2018 by John Biscello

Kin to symmetry, dreams, like roses, flare the course– Stalk your own wild seeds.

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