Tag Archives: sensual

Nocturne

Posted on November 15, 2022 by John Biscello

In not so many words I found my wanting voice warming and calling out to you almost. It was going to say things about blues and greens I think in relation to the sea in relation to your eyes. I … Continue reading →

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Level

Posted on July 12, 2018 by John Biscello

Girl, I will write you for a long, seething bask, Light seeks its own level.

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Peony

Posted on July 12, 2018 by John Biscello

The peony came at exactly the right time– The garden smiled, blushed.    

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Love’s Sweet Nothing

Posted on June 27, 2018 by John Biscello

Is there anything greater than the beautiful nothing that gets done with gingered languour that full-of-sweet nothing when you are lying in bed next to someone you love and after having participated in each other’s mysteries with a relish near … Continue reading →

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Icarus by Any Other Name

Posted on June 26, 2018 by John Biscello

I have imagined her from every possible angle have painted skies with her needlepoint rain and am now defying gravity and leaving behind my body derelict and wasted on the sublime felonies of sunkissed air and singed feathers.

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Crush

Posted on June 26, 2018 by John Biscello

There was pillowtalk in her eyes, underscored by her mouth’s bated languour; Sundays curled in her lap with feline ease, slow jazz dreams on holiday, whiskered softly between her thighs and pinkest belly; she wanted nothing to do with volume … Continue reading →

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Bare

Posted on June 26, 2018 by John Biscello

She cried, guttural, the slit in her pillowcase harboring years of unheld yesses and scented missives; find me here, destitute, sunproofed, the girl of bare knees and forgotten dreams.

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The Gospel According to Ice Cream

Posted on June 25, 2018 by John Biscello

Perfection, this life’s greatest untruth and maligner, see how ice cream summer-melts and runs like happy magma down the ridged wonders of a waffle cone clutched by a child like an edible prayer destined to disappear, one bite at a … Continue reading →

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Wordburn

Posted on June 17, 2018 by John Biscello

Between the call of bodies, testing the ream of vocabulary’s limits, words exact their talent for slow burn, and quicken to replenish.

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Plaything

Posted on June 15, 2018 by John Biscello

Fictionalize me, martyr me to your crosses and lost causes, give me a form by which my double can register touch, and seeds of desire, twitching and sputtering in the blue flames of fabulous opera, make me the husky baritone … Continue reading →

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