Tag Archives: Poetry

The Silence

Posted on April 13, 2020 by John Biscello

My friend who lives in the woods told me there’s a silence there he’s never heard before. Said he’s lived in the woods for nearly twenty years and while he’s heard plenty of quiet, volumes and volumes of quiet, the … Continue reading →

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Into the Mystic

Posted on April 12, 2020 by John Biscello

I became a bird, just for a little while. It wasn’t sorcery, it was need, a whirling imperative from or into the unknown, or perhaps the broken skin of a bared dream. I became a bird and flew up to … Continue reading →

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You Say You Want a Revolution

Posted on April 12, 2020 by John Biscello

The secret to becoming a true revolutionary, lay yourself out upon the world’s limitless altar of secrets, and praise the hidden roots of everything you encounter daily, heart bared as proof of light’s need to air.

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Enigma

Posted on April 12, 2020 by John Biscello

How to live patiently, in praise of mysterious drift, the questions burning dark in your heart, stolen keys fitted to foreign locks; you, spy and thief to your own drama, holding shadows to high standards, must abide with fierce intent, … Continue reading →

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Purls

Posted on April 11, 2020 by John Biscello

I became a bird, just to see about the clouds— Rain, purling wet want.

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Mystic

Posted on April 11, 2020 by John Biscello

Into the mystic, this life, the skin of dreaming— To break, and enter.

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The Inheritors

Posted on April 10, 2020 by John Biscello

The weight of the world does not belong on your shoulders, my sons and daughters; square yourself to the sun’s slow-poured thimbles of light, as the presence of wings, warmed, grows where you were held back to forge seedless burdens … Continue reading →

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Sorcerer’s Apprentice

Posted on April 9, 2020 by John Biscello

Breathing in, this holy seethe, an etheric reflux of fierce fire and starlight, which has kept me in tow and fasting thrall to my dreams for as long as I can remember. When I was a budding young sorcerer, new … Continue reading →

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Transience

Posted on April 7, 2020 by John Biscello

Where were you last night, my dreams asked of my silence— Between worlds, I longed.

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Trespass Lightly

Posted on April 7, 2020 by John Biscello

Wayfaring, through dreams, the most golden trespasses called me to follow.

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