Tag Archives: Poetry

Tow

Posted on July 4, 2017 by John Biscello

Grief, its memory a river bound to a course inveighing a volatile tow.

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Turn of the Screw

Posted on July 2, 2017 by John Biscello

Is this what Adam and Eve felt like, outcasts in their own backyard? In this wasteland would you just screw and screw and screw, the desperate conjugation of the lonely and damned, trying to screw your way out of the … Continue reading →

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Marvel

Posted on June 18, 2017 by John Biscello

In these mortal coils I have always marveled at the sheer lightness of centuries rising to meet love in a single feral drop of gospel distilled to its purest form.

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Childhood’s End?

Posted on June 11, 2017 by John Biscello

Childhood, as a static port or fixed constellation, remains an ongoing historical fiction, in which small deaths, consigned to witnesses, inevitably breed the shadows of regeneration.

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Garden

Posted on June 11, 2017 by John Biscello

In seeding the bones fragile means to nuptial growth among mortal remains.

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Samsa in Transit

Posted on June 1, 2017 by John Biscello

It had been one of those nights, but still, the stairs were unexpected. The bug, formerly known as Gregor Samsa, scuttled to the eroded edge of a step bleached by white-hot light, and he considered the view, the ascent, the blue-dark, … Continue reading →

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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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