A review of Paula McLain’s The Paris Wife. Hemingway’s classic, A Moveable Feast, is a well-stewed blend of contradictions, much like the man himself. It is a crucible of a valentine, wrapped in vellum and barbed wire. Notorious for holding … Continue reading
Posted in Books, Press, Prose
Tagged 1920s, Hadley Richardson, Hemingway, Jazz Age, John Biscello, Literary, paris, Paula McLain, Review, Scott Fitzgerald, The Paris Wife
Consider the mole, a small important god, unfettered by dreams of flight or fugitive arcs, gathering briskly the dark into its labor, leveling a dig to assume no chances or saviors
To speak fire these days, to claim desire in a fierce consumptive manner, is no longer a popular notion, no longer in vogue. It is an outworn, outmoded, out-dated form of expression. We know too much, we know too much … Continue reading
I will be having a reading/book-signing for my new novel Raking the Dust (Thursday, June 23rd) at Bookworks in Albuquerque. Info here.
It’s in the eyes. A hard crystal blue, lovely and liquid, charged by a hidden fever wired to the source and its tangled roots. Ancient autumn tree stripped of its skin, nesting psychic lesions that no one can see; at … Continue reading
two sisters, sawed in half at birth, dys membered family roots splintered, offshooting scraps, tatters, shotgun hobbyhorses cruising high noons in dada’s sedan, desert sun bleeding maraschino, while the sisters suctioned to red backseat vinyl, swill acid lemonade from styrofoam … Continue reading
In a state of honeyed repose, her flightless body, a constellation, draped in the sheer cloth of sunlight, as she models hidden grief to witnesses unseen by common sight.
She, falling through a slipknot cinched by Grief’s hard hands; He, minding gravity, set a course for two, at dawn’s first light.
Summer, how butterflies tango in upward-moving flux
Almost dusk. Young unbridled lovers, hands bonded, fingers chaste in a minuet, lying on their backs in the sunspiked grass of the graveyard. The boy whispers something into the girl’s ear, the girl giggles at that something, and then silence, … Continue reading