Tag Archives: poem

Flow Chart

Posted on November 26, 2018 by John Biscello

There’s something about filing a mortal grievance with angels that’s reassuring. As if, there you are, casually adrift on a slow-moving first-class glassy blue glacier, going out to sea, and you cheerfully wave goodbye to yourself, entrusting the course of … Continue reading →

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Fade-In

Posted on October 18, 2018 by John Biscello

We are not here to tiptoe through the garden at night. We balance on the edge of a slow-whirling blade, a smooth silver plane with teeth, belonging to a star, unnamed, its heart a fiery proof and fade of joy … Continue reading →

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Decree

Posted on September 5, 2018 by John Biscello

If you are wondering what is happening to the earth, or what that sound is you hear at night, halfway between dream and mortar, rest easy, it is simply women waking up to move mountains, by order of the Moon’s … Continue reading →

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Scarring

Posted on August 23, 2018 by John Biscello

There are stories, chanced to be heard in silent scars– listen with your eyes.

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Hotel Story

Posted on August 23, 2018 by John Biscello

Where she fell in love, a red-lettered memory of palms holding sun.

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Cape

Posted on August 23, 2018 by John Biscello

A spectral, widespreading cape of lavender misting the seascape, and in the distance, a house, fronted by palms  looking like shadowy pom-poms, its windows lighted eyes blazing swaths of yellow to imbibe the encroaching nocturne.

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Illustory

Posted on August 23, 2018 by John Biscello

The sky, a photographic illusion, a veiled overlay, which the sun, in this starring instance, burns through from behind, creating a pinhole aperture through which one can vision proof of eternity, and its unending volumes of light.

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Elegy

Posted on August 7, 2018 by John Biscello

At the risk of harbor, emptiness pools where hearts marvel in sync with grief’s ruins.

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An Affair to Remember

Posted on August 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Unscripted, unbound, wind’s summer fling with towel– Love, gently aired, seeks.

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Door II

Posted on August 6, 2018 by John Biscello

When the trap door fell, he remembered who he was– Peter Pan leapt, soared.

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