Tag Archives: Poetry

New York, New York

Posted on May 26, 2017 by John Biscello

The skyscraper quartet of ladies peaking eyecandy to airshow, arches a vintage and puckered valentine to a city in love with its meteoric rise and call.

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Kiss/Sing

Posted on May 26, 2017 by John Biscello

It is the first and lasting kiss of breathless lovers archived in a recursive loop, the stripping of cinema to its barest flammable proof.

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The Last Laugh

Posted on May 26, 2017 by John Biscello

After having rejected him night after night, in what had become an agonized shtick and ritual of unrequited love, Colombine turned away  one last time, Pierrot’s parting gag performed for a backwoods audience of trees, grass, air, and a moon, … Continue reading →

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It-Girl

Posted on May 25, 2017 by John Biscello

Her shadow projected at higher volume then the radiance which enclosed her in a cast fit to bind.

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Blue

Posted on May 25, 2017 by John Biscello

They, without words, have agreed to model the sea, to mimic its waves by air, blue and heat, fasting symmetry with intent to respire and please.

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A Small Thing

Posted on May 24, 2017 by John Biscello

It is a small thing, small matter, and yet, magnificent, profound, terrifying, yes, terrifying. She is now responsible for this thing, this love, her love has assumed a shape, a form, and it lies there, sleeping, not too far removed from … Continue reading →

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Ceremony

Posted on May 24, 2017 by John Biscello

The nibbling of the croissant, the bandolier of pearls, the dark sunglasses matching the dark elegant dress, the stylishly coiffed hair, all of it, agreed upon, in advance, the fragile means to meeting herself, serene, supple, undisturbed, in a window … Continue reading →

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TV

Posted on May 21, 2017 by John Biscello

Light, a beacon in a fish-bowl. It was the only channel Bobby received at night after his parents went to sleep, after his vision adjusted to the warning signals arraigned in silence.

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The Chairs

Posted on May 21, 2017 by John Biscello

Stiff-spined, hammer-headed, squat-bottomed, rubble-flecked alternates to the chairs that once stilled motion and held human life; the people lost, the flights canceled, the chairs a stirring musical memory, a ghostly paean to the dashed dreams of a grave new world, … Continue reading →

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Mannequin

Posted on May 19, 2017 by John Biscello

After countless years of mind-numbing routine, strolling up and down the avenue where she shopped for groceries and clothing and listlessly scavenged storefront windows with vicarious pleasure, on October 13th the housewife experienced a foreign sensation, astonishment, freighted with terror, … Continue reading →

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