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Meta
Tag Archives: Poetry
Husk
The quiet net of one’s fingers, mute and aggrieved, yet lapping volumes of light, a measureless brood husking the dark to derive a glean, its rivet bound to the commonest plight.
Craft
A chipped blue vase, void of flowers, holding so much perfect air, how we, abiding a course of reform, charge particles with intent to respire, craft bred by labor’s lighted resolve.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged craft, flowers, John Biscello, Literary, Poetry
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The Hero’s Early Journey
Joe Campbell, age two, teething on his toy Muse– in a sense, Bliss.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged haiku, hero's journey, John Biscello, Joseph Campbell, Literary, myth, Poetry
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Almost Found in Translation
If, by chance or mistake, I have given you inscrutable glyphs, it is only because I, the translator, struggle mightily and mostly fail to translate the parts of me gone missing.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry
Tagged absence, Abstract Expressionism, Jackson Pollock, John Biscello, Literary, Poetry
2 Comments
Gondola
Distance, the middle ground between lovers locked in psychic undress; a ritual burlesque exposing wounds, we reverse course and seed safe harbors at the expense of metaphor and masks; intimacy skinned to savor a new course, near to grace, unfiltered.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged gondola, grace, John Biscello, Literary, love, lovers, Man Ray, mannequin, Poetry
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Furls
Feted, by an angel’s glassy hands, slow-burning river of sound, pooling white fire in rounded furls.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged angel, Chua ek Kay, fire, John Biscello, lotus pond, Poetry, river, sound
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Kafka, Waking in the Morning
Between dreams, he woke to night-bells ringing in the early morning— the riskiest time of day. The fog outside his room, thick as cat’s feet, treading softly on his mind, and after rubrubbing the sheep from his eyes, he stared … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Poetry
Tagged dreams, John Biscello, kafka, Poetry, robert crumb, Surrealism
3 Comments
Staring at Paintings, Hungry
Hemingway wrote that he’d go to the Luxembourg, hungry, and stare at the paintings and this was a great way to see art.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged art, edvard munch, Hemingway, hunger, John Biscello, kafka, knut hamsun, Literary, New York, paris, paul auster, Poetry, William saroyan
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Honeymoon, Rinse, Repeat
She crashed their sixteenth honeymoon, violet lace and camellias, ceremonial fashion for a ritual sacrifice, and reminded him—I will kill your wife however many times need be, my love, to make sure you and I remain bonded and not shackled. … Continue reading
The Source
This poem dedicated to mothers’ everywhere. Their hearts, registered as infinite beacons, have gone gently and luminously into nights not so good and pitch-black, braving flytrap folds and god-awful rows to soothe, mend and restore the bruised vitals of daughters … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged beacon, John Biscello, Light, Literary, love, mother's day, mothers, Poetry, the source
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John Biscello 