Tag Archives: poem

Shrift

Posted on May 8, 2018 by John Biscello

The soft bop and shrift of dreams, how they rake and tumble, colored Braille for a blind vagrant, stunned.

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Jackson Pollock

Posted on May 7, 2018 by John Biscello

Out of silence, and lidded smolder, arose a localized storm. You could say it was a balletic squall forecasting its own tyrant reign and fall, a fate designed to galvanize and then blackout not so gently into that goodnight exit … Continue reading →

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Tryst

Posted on May 6, 2018 by John Biscello

The last time I fornicated with an angel my porchlights blew and we became tranluscent sheets of merger rising above a glassy pool of chartreuse reflecting in cursive the lighted gist of our holy remains. God, I’m open to another … Continue reading →

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Air

Posted on May 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Cherish, the strayest fibers thinning mouth to prayer, airing lips this side of kiss.

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Wordplay

Posted on May 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Savor, how words, transgressing grammar, mate in the middle of a sentence and melt, when no one is looking.

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Cinch

Posted on May 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Where you are not, I have found just cause for form, blanks folded and tucked, to cinch gapes and frayed cords.

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Sweetheart

Posted on May 6, 2018 by John Biscello

At the heart of the matter, this, become your own valentine, again and again, and sculpt a blessedly illicit affair, in perpetual fount and bask.

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I Do Not Say

Posted on May 6, 2018 by John Biscello

I do not say I love you, but I notice how your fingers twine and wrap around empty, tracing broken circles in the air when you are nervous. I do not say I love you, but there is a spot … Continue reading →

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Beat, Bop & Abstraction

Posted on May 4, 2018 by John Biscello

It took place in an amnesiac haze and fury, numberless nights of lightningspeak and opiate rabble, rocketfuel and anti-freeze, bright slashing ribbons of noise amounting to worry stones indenting the infantpink tender of palms, forecasting God as a vaudeville dunce … Continue reading →

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Flagrant

Posted on April 24, 2018 by John Biscello

Prayer’s body to rent, exact in flagrant cherish– flesh struck to match, ssssssss.

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