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Meta
Tag Archives: Poetry
Ashprint
Out of the ashes arose nothing recognizable. Embers, in memory, projected a blank sheaf of light to cover the loss.
Canticle
The stars indelibly printed on obsidian reams of sky, a course in illuminated text by which we redeem the necessary canticle to cite a gilded theme.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged John Biscello, poem, Poetry, sky, Stars, text
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Grapple
To constantly grapple with the past feels like strangling a mannequin, your hands sacrificed to false intimacy and the empty reaping of love’s labor by unreal standards.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged John Biscello, love, love's labor, poem, Poetry
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Citrus
Upon a citrus-infused sky, bright and sorry, the dance of acidic vapors and serpentine ravels, assuming the burden of a faceless woman, basking
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Artwork, citrus, ekphrasis, Georgia O' Keefe, John Biscello, Literary, poem, Poetry
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Touch
It is the quiet history of touch, tendered through years of symmetry and fable, a radiant pulsing in the spaces between fingers, holy derived, charging us to mercy and enclosure.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged fable, gospel, John Biscello, Literary, love, ouch, poem, Poetry
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What Remains?
If I were to go tomorrow, and by go I mean no more spells of wonder, or lines leveling a manic fate, no more ancient fireflies like safety pins fastening us to thin, thin dreams, all our hollow and chaste … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged being, death, John Biscello, lightness, poem, Poetry, rebirth, release
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Thursday’s Child
Wrapped snugly in a blanket of godlight, Thursday’s child indwells the symmetry of tigers burning bright to leave tracks on empty.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged God, John Biscello, Light, love, poem, Poetry, tigers
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Arc
Starstruck, and wrestling within mortal coils, God’s lucid fame overshadows the cast of our solitary arc.
Proof
With the grave mortal nearness that only distance can bring, we enter the bruised, secret heart of our childhood, a stalker’s negative proof, slow-burned to exposure and fade.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged childhood, exposure, fade, John Biscello, love, poem, Poetry
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Torch
How a writer, cave-timing dark and solitude, annoints an ember by crafting the small hours into a flagrant torch.
John Biscello 