Tag Archives: Poetry

Sure Shot

Posted on October 6, 2026 by John Biscello

Out here/in here cradling the air. Hugging its hot pissy whatever. Something to hold onto something to grasp. This is maintenance at its most base level. If I let go I will be scooped up again, a helpless dollop in … Continue reading →

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Mission Impossible

Posted on September 29, 2026 by John Biscello
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The Search (In Six Parts)

Posted on September 29, 2026 by John Biscello

1. It has been a long, fruitless, and exhaustive search. Finding the dreamer who is dreaming you is damned near impossible. He or she or it is in there somewhere. In where, exactly? In where is the birthplace of existential … Continue reading →

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Bardo Noir

Posted on September 22, 2026 by John Biscello

Out/here in/here cradling the air. Hugging its hot pissy whatever. Something to hold onto something to grasp. This is maintenance at its most base level. If I let go I will be scooped up again/a helpless dollop in timespanning batter. … Continue reading →

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Forest

Posted on September 21, 2026 by John Biscello

Everyone possesses a dark forest. It is, whether geographically or metaphysically, where you are terrified to wander at night, alone. It is the weathervane and divining rod of primal fear. There is an ancient nameless fear that makes your existence … Continue reading →

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Tuesday

Posted on September 8, 2026 by John Biscello

You send yourself letters endlessly. They are postmarked from the future, some future date, some invented date, or the dates are all over the map—future and past switch places like Tuesday and Thursday, or Sunday and Monday. That is to … Continue reading →

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Unsaid

Posted on September 6, 2026 by John Biscello

Waxing blankly, to soothe and mollify, her hand (nails polished electric blue) gagged my mouth (O-shaped in ache) with a hint of phrase, rouge to the touch, and blatantly sheer in its umentionables.

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Classified Section

Posted on September 6, 2026 by John Biscello

In this season of longing, the pluralized itch and wraith of you and I, coursing parallel tracks to cross imaginary lines where distance mounts the spreading horizon.

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Neo-Folk

Posted on September 3, 2026 by John Biscello

Everything always going on. People worry about everything not going on but what they’re really saying beneath the waves what they’re subliminally saying and worrying about is them not going on. Everything going on and them not. How to reconcile … Continue reading →

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Plight Trajectory

Posted on September 3, 2026 by John Biscello

Youth passes in fleeting doses, and doesn’t die a single death, youth as concept and cheat code disassembles into ghosts, into many ghosts which proliferate and spread, in pursuit of seances and possession. Youth, in its death, moves in many … Continue reading →

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