Tag Archives: Poetry

Riddle

Posted on April 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Did I enter her, or was I the door walked through? Savor the riddle.

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Initiate

Posted on April 22, 2018 by John Biscello

It was only when her thighs caught fire that he began to understand the laws of arson as practiced by goddesses imitating sirens.

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Room Service

Posted on April 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Form-fitted to God, the Muse brought in her posse– Room for improvement.

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Palms

Posted on April 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Mercy Street runs lengthwise to the sun. Its soul, to orient, turns its nearest cheek to flaring palms.

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Jean Rhys

Posted on April 22, 2018 by John Biscello

You held the islands in your eyes, where it rained and rained and then the sun warmed wet to a wafting hiss. This Jean, you, the feline slink, filigreed shock, and sinewy comb of whitelaced waves ruffling upon puttied blobs … Continue reading →

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Electric

Posted on April 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Trespass, skin on air, fornication with angels– Who turned the lights on?    

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Climate

Posted on April 20, 2018 by John Biscello

Her fractures, to mend, begged a lacy run of slowmelt kisses– As above, so below.

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Anais Nin

Posted on April 19, 2018 by John Biscello

Invention was your solitude, your twin, wasn’t it, Miss Nin? The way you spread secret pages like silk violet capes, like fringed shawls, over an air of mystery, and err of desire. You enabled symmetry, to confess. Why couldn’t a … Continue reading →

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Satyr

Posted on April 19, 2018 by John Biscello

I found him, wanting, satyr’s swell of thorny play– fondling fresh, green grass.

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Claim

Posted on April 18, 2018 by John Biscello

Some kind of tender, hard to find its truest name– words fail to claim touch.

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