ARLENE DANCES

In the summer
of her charm
she dances
with elegance
and lightness,
her soul
sprouting wings
that float
in sparkling air.

Grateful
that her life
has its own rythm,
she is pitch-perfect
and will always be
a friend
of my heart
and the secret smile
in the mirror of my cha-cha eye's.

© JOHN PISCATELLA

INFINITE TENDERNESS

Tinged with power

from the last time

I did something

for the first time

I am living here and now

the past I will grow into

soothed

not only by

the unrelenting beauty

of the present moment

and the hours

yet to come

but by the days and years

of infinite tenderness

from those that

stroked my brow.


© JOHN PISCATELLA

TIGERS UNCHAINED

We dance the dance
dreamlike
of eternal harmony,
magnetically connected
like a first kiss.

Inseparable
beyond
impassioned expectations,
we dance fiercely
like tigers unchained.

Movement on movement,
breath on breath,
rumbling,
tumbling pores
decanting liquid life
beneath the rhythm
of a single heartbeat.

Enormous together
we are one with the night,
belonging only
to the moment
and the music
in each other.

© JOHN PISCATELLA

A MOMENT'S EDGE

Under my skin
is a younger man
who once was
and will always be
a version of me
that returns like a boomerang
to the surface
of a soul’s journey.

Blanketed
with a tidal wave of dreams
and the metered motion
of memory,
the years
are parading fast,
twitching involuntarily
from cycle to cycle.

But in the belly
of the invisible
I am just as I was
from the outset,
a sparkle
of possibilities
in the perpetual mirror
of my own eyes.

Of all that I have done
I see again
and again still
the beginning
of a moment’s edge
where
the sweetness
of life’s passions
ripens the rhythm
of my imagination.

© JOHN PISCATELLA

MY OWN TREASURE

If
I am
my
own treasure
I am
rich
because I dance,
not only
to
heart music
on
full moon nights,
but
to an undeniable rhythm
of myself
so
deeply penetrating
it
is a privilege
to
my soul.

© JOHN PISCATELLA

AN UNFINISHED SONG

Simmering beneath my skin

and the infinite air

is the unflawed unmistakability

of abiding attachment

and the penetrating silence

of an unfinished song.

To live

with awakened expectations

is startling.

To drift languidly

without them is

darkness deferred.

Between the past and future,

in the middle of a life

lost not to twilight,

is a flowing heart

and a burning spirit

shining brightly like sun

and moon on

seasoned shards

of crystal silence.

At times I feel,

in a moment of lucidity

and wide-eyed wonder,

that it is enough

not to be all enough,

if only to savor

the poetry of passion

in and out

of the life

inside me.

© JOHN PISCATELLA

MY WAY HOME

I know certain things
but have forgotten more
than I can contain within myself.

In the half-light
of morning-tide
beneath a bow-shaped moon,
I am vulnerable
to the sweet song
of cascading rainfall
on a tiled roof
and to the muted memory
of unwavering affection,
as natural to me
as my way home.

If I have lapses in judgment
that fool my heart,
then I await the drama,
the feel of emotion
of my next breath.

Some people are takers
and have two names
and an equal number of faces,
destined to be alone
in like company.

They can be strong
in a weak way,
ignoring the reality
that actions have consequences
beyond expectations
that can flow incontrollably
like an undamned stream
to achingly unforseeable places.


Others are givers,
unselfish owners
of a generous life force
that continues in and out
of this beautiful world.
They act lovingly
and are universally
loved in return.

How lucky am I
to have breathed
the same air;
to have tasted
honey in a voice;
to know why I am
who I am
and what is on
the other side.

© JOHN PISCATELLA