Tag Archives: Poetry

Train

Posted on March 25, 2018 by John Biscello

I understand, you let the wrong one in again– doors close, doors open.   (Artwork by Nigel Van Wieck)

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Sylvia, Triptych

Posted on March 25, 2018 by John Biscello

Perhaps, Miss Sylvia, if there had been more sand on your beach, more sea to wash away the dead skin of pallid thoughts, more moonstruck nights rattling close to your fingers as you typed out the country of your heart, … Continue reading →

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Autobiography

Posted on March 25, 2018 by John Biscello

To know myself, a rogue aggregate of loving atoms, a happy shivering clusterfuck of luminous baubles banded together to forge and assume an alleged identity, no papers or pulpit required, to fulfill an arc, and heart-guided directives, to be a … Continue reading →

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Jean Rhys at Twilight

Posted on March 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Nutrition fact: Did you know that windows like to eat writers who diet on silence and dust-motes, they swallow the writers whole, or in fragments, devouring them slowly, ever so slowly, until all that remains is a ghost, where a … Continue reading →

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Girl, Chair

Posted on March 20, 2018 by John Biscello

The girl in the chair is no longer the girl in the chair, she is neither here nor there, she is always and forget-me-not, soul-spray and glacial uproar causing a siege, she is the spidery patterns of her exploded heart, … Continue reading →

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Beginning Now

Posted on March 15, 2018 by John Biscello

Craft. Tactile homage, and respect to craft, its inviolable depths and integrity, to approach craft as you would a fertile god, to practice, radically, at its altar, to consecrate with marked intent, and to know in your heart’s heart that … Continue reading →

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Lash

Posted on March 11, 2018 by John Biscello

The scarring gleam, to produce penitent beads of sorrow, through a lashed eye, darkly.   (Photo by Man Ray)  

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Closer

Posted on March 11, 2018 by John Biscello

You said you knew me, but really, what did you know? Closer, I dare you.   (Photo by Man Ray)    

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Footsteps

Posted on March 11, 2018 by John Biscello

Every last kiss, a rupture in her psyche– Unsteady walk home.   (Photo by Henri Cartier-Bresson)    

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Noveltease

Posted on March 11, 2018 by John Biscello

Tuesday afternoon, blowing off work to find his lover, in bed, fondling Madame Bovary’s text under the covers, literary flint and tease sparking his novel request–May I read between your legs?   (Photo by Henri Cartier-Bresson)

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