by Jason Visconti
Artist: Steve Johnson
For your flesh of so many caresses,
the sky that hides in your eyes,
how your lips keep the howl from your hushes,
and your body completes all its crimes,
we keep our perfect canvas from paintbrushes.
So squeamish with his paints he politely blots them out,
a circus of music with no ringmaster to lead,
his voice travels the theater North but never South,
his dancing is how a motionless man may be,
an architect who crisscrosses the beams sky to ground.
We have come as far as the mantle to bow,
no curtain needed to reveal this stage,
the inscription is a song whose voice need not be sung aloud,
feature a beautiful bundle and praise the maze,
lose yourself in the labyrinth of the crown.
Jason Visconti has attended both group and private poetry workshops. His work has appeared in various journals, including “Blazevox”, “Valley Voices”, and “The American Journal of Poetry”. He especially enjoys the poetry of Pablo Neruda and Billy Collins. He first discovered his love for poetry after losing his mother at a young age and needing a way to express himself. Decades later, it remains his passion.