Tag Archives: Poetry

Currency

Posted on April 23, 2018 by John Biscello

Language, a living currency and greening force, gospel and amorphic in its leanings toward the freest and most daring aspects of your imagination, well beyond margins, syntax, and staid forms.

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Fierce and Daisy

Posted on April 23, 2018 by John Biscello

Among greengolden pastures, the fierce grew. Its plastic vampire teeth tore into the jugulars of bluebells, its molten leavetaking gave the earth scars and heartburn, and left the fresh grass in tears. The roots, understanding the nature of siege, its … Continue reading →

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Margin

Posted on April 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Beyond these margins, lies something that is yours, yes, an intimate claim.

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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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