Tag Archives: Poetry

Crossing

Posted on June 1, 2017 by John Biscello

The solitary spectral figure gliding smoothly across the plane of sea, validated the woman’s faith in her blunt decision to leave off, unfinished, far from the unlit days of a life unsown.

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Valentine

Posted on June 1, 2017 by John Biscello

At the fringes of his bucket list, on his very last pour, he honored the small bright birds buried in his heart for his first love, his ailing mom, who, in her fading twilight, could tenderly absorb the valentine immortalized … Continue reading →

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Existential Makeover

Posted on June 1, 2017 by John Biscello

Between Bardo realms, he found John Cage composing birth sonatas to the cellular din of Dalmatians squabbling with  Rorschach supermodels.

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Autumn in New York (Remix)

Posted on May 31, 2017 by John Biscello

On the day October exploded over the city, an entire month spilling its guts to the grafitti of mass agitation, the trains stopped running, streets went dark, hobgoblins rose to the occasion, as did cryptic totems and obelisks which suddenly … Continue reading →

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Disquiet

Posted on May 31, 2017 by John Biscello

They, the profane muses, Laurel and Hardy at a voodoo head-shop, serve as pillared repositories for the lasting remains of mortal disquiet.

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Girl

Posted on May 29, 2017 by John Biscello

Shrouded in white fire, barred from true exit, she, a marvelous and fearful shudder, is torn mysteriously from dreams rounded by the sleep of babes fitted to gallows.

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Venus Infers

Posted on May 28, 2017 by John Biscello

Withholding, with intent, for so very  very long, the mouth like moth to flame engaged the key to its lock, while the eyes watched her lover, bearing the scripted burn, drop to his knees, modeling a biblical take on crush.

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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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