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Meta
Tag Archives: poem
Door
There is a legend of a door hidden from hearts– How stones, unturned, scar.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged door, dream, heart, John Biscello, mexico, otherworldly, poem
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Lavender
The soft-slippered mist of lavender’s whispered crush– Seaside kisses, aired.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged John Biscello, lavender mist dreams, poem, salted tongues, seaside kisses
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Picasso Who?
No painter required, just a door, and running blues– Fuck museum walls.
Sea Change
There is only so long a mermaid can linger on land before some collector with a fetishistic bent, and sheer volumes of emptiness matching his compensatory cravings, renders her a mute and immobile object of worship, not only for his … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged fathoming the deep, John Biscello, mermaid's tale, my mother the sea, poem, pygmalion on a pillar, worship
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The Messenger
To conceive of Death, as an uninvited guest– His gift, your life, lived.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged bones to pick, death's door knocked up, haiku, John Biscello, poem, skeleton keys, we were the Addams family
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Knock Knock
I came to a door, where once it was only wall– Dreams turn up in time.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dreamwalking through doorways, haiku, John Biscello, one door close another opens, poem
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Buddha’s Ninth Life
Fasting on patience, the cat became enlightened– No reason to leap.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged buddha, cat, enlightened feline, haiku, John Biscello, mexico, poem, walled out
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How Stones Love
Almost as if the stones, a bundle of prehistoric easter eggs, and petrified sweeps and flourishes of gondoliering motion, were modeling poetry, an implacable ode and incalculable sonnet to the sea, whose flagrant tempest, bound to strict meter, abrades the … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged ancient yet evernew, baja, John Biscello, mexico, poem, prehistory's unwritten pages, saline kisses, stones loving sea
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Turning
After the deluge of pink, new rain softens earth– something’s got to give.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged how the earth turns, John Biscello, poem, soft soak, soil by any other name, when the rains come
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Sweet & Lowdown
“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”–Oscar Wilde In the beginning, guttersongs carved from starstuff– we got down with gods.
John Biscello 