Tag Archives: Poetry

Anais’s Verizon Plan

Posted on August 20, 2017 by John Biscello

With a diarist’s intimacy and candor, Anais composed her dawnrise text to Henry and then hit SEND, grateful for the fast-flying expedient breath of a cellular technology that had yet to be invented.  

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Adah Isaacs Menken, 1835-1868

Posted on August 20, 2017 by John Biscello

She, the Menken, Byronic in flame and force, mastered the art of social media long before technology caught up, selling the illusion of a man/ woman bound naked to a horse; she, the salacious Mazeppa, incited a modern storm, long … Continue reading →

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Yellow

Posted on August 20, 2017 by John Biscello

Yellow encroaches upon Jesus in grease-paint– a solar eclipse.

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Moliere Dreams of Noir

Posted on August 18, 2017 by John Biscello

It was a blue Monday when she walked into my office, flaming red and smoking green– Drink this, she said, it will make you bigger– it was then that I realized, the gun in my pocket, the stubs in the … Continue reading →

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Mating Call

Posted on August 18, 2017 by John Biscello

In a traceless sky, Dali’s lovebird moustaches– Dada’s nature call.

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Medicine

Posted on August 18, 2017 by John Biscello

Through grave misfortune, the clown kept thousands of souls in stitches, a tramp’s cross to bear in the name of classic medicine.

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Outlet

Posted on August 18, 2017 by John Biscello

In his solemn hour, the clown’s last laugh was soundless– loss of an outlet.

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Shutter

Posted on August 18, 2017 by John Biscello

Witness to a claim, Pandora’s box-cutting gaze– hope at the bottom.

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Anima

Posted on August 15, 2017 by John Biscello

A mother’s dollhouse, twinning brother and sister– Hemingway, age two.

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Blade

Posted on August 15, 2017 by John Biscello

The moon woman bled in shamanic company– blade warm and dripping.

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