Tag Archives: Poetry

Where on Earth

Posted on October 13, 2022 by John Biscello

Nineteen rifles and the village was burned to the ground there were nineteen rifles stolen by rebels and then came the awful burning down what was called scorched earth policy. My mother my father my brother were burned down to … Continue reading →

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Keepers

Posted on October 12, 2022 by John Biscello

Grief lies here like an insomniac thirsting for sleep. Like scissors dull to the touch of fate. We paper over grief its many wrecks its graying slates with torn pages. Forget me nots band aids christ sporting a porn stache. … Continue reading →

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Story

Posted on October 9, 2022 by John Biscello

In the beginning the dreaming. not the word. the word came later. it came whenever and betrayed silence and this was the beginning of fiction. now you’ve got what passes for a world of dreaming and fiction and parallels became … Continue reading →

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In the Beginning, Fiction

Posted on October 7, 2022 by John Biscello

Now you say no more words but you don’t really mean no more words, these dreams of going wordless are playthings in the air, concepts without volition. You are compelled to use words to express what it would be like … Continue reading →

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Hymnal

Posted on October 6, 2022 by John Biscello

On a molecular level, we are fucked. Perpetually, repeatedly, renewably. Fucked. The world is an unceasing orgy, everything touches everything, nonstop fondling and hymnal friction between pulsing meshes. Your very breath is a shore leave sailor and kissing cousin, a … Continue reading →

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Not in So Many Words

Posted on October 6, 2022 by John Biscello

On a molecular level, we are fucked. Perpetually, repeatedly, renewably. Fucked. The world is an unceasing orgy. Everything touches everything, nonstop fondling and incestuous friction between particles, the pulsing frisson of meshes. We are nets that hold nothing and touch … Continue reading →

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Splish Splash

Posted on October 5, 2022 by John Biscello

Our destinies are molecular an infinitely charged clusterfuck of singing particles wedded to a liminal bubblebath in which god drops the soap and slips under to retrieve it when she reemerges face caked in a frothy foam beard you laugh … Continue reading →

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Sphinx

Posted on October 2, 2022 by John Biscello

The broken pulsing fingers of rain, cloning time, tap spates of symmetry against my window— This, both cause and effect, upon the glassy passage of hours, dwindling, singing, undeciphered.

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There is No Curtain

Posted on September 23, 2022 by John Biscello

Forever and ever is the asking price and promise the singer made to the song conjugal atomic bliss siring the I that right now is speaking singularly on behalf of the song and singer forever and ever.

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Dust in the Wind

Posted on August 12, 2022 by John Biscello

Much here is caked in dust. Dust-skinned dogs and dust-skinned horses. Dust-coated houses in ruin, the staccato of ruins, the oldlife song of decay, dreams move sluggishly here at the pace of dust, the swirling eddies of dust, dust in … Continue reading →

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