Monthly Archives: February 2018

Tilt

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

A mirror, tilted, starkly pooling lovers self-similar turns and views of each other: I am I, you are you, qualifiers blurred and dissolved in a furious crossing of ritual desires.

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Henry, June, Anais, 2018

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Henry’s cell, his first ever, gave rise to a new breed of anxiety and impatience.    Fretfully awaiting Anais’s text, he stared at the dark electronic device cradled in his palm, and keenly felt pangs of nostalgia.    He recalled … Continue reading →

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Aria for Two Voices

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

It was perfect in that our distances mirrored one another’s fragile attempts for lasting intimacy, and in reaching we were guaranteed, to come up empty yet singing.

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The Upstart Scarecrow

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

(Listen to the spoken word track here.) There he goes um-humh that’s him Willy Shakes the upstart scarecrow and derelict poet of the barrio and bodegas— gin rummy seizures and shaker of visions— hangnail to a scab dude rips it up … Continue reading →

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Anya Rising

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.)    I see her rising off the bathroom tiles, toes pointing downward.    I know this is a dream but I also know this actually happened, once, a long time ago.    Except then Anya … Continue reading →

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Trinity

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Beware the airless room, without light, laughter and love, a Trinity beyond reckon, none of it is worth a good goddamn.    

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Sunder

Posted on February 20, 2018 by John Biscello

To leave sheer vowels and sudden clefts upon the warm, dream-wet infinity of skin, so wherever she goes, whenever, sundered verses will marvel as placeholders.

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Coil

Posted on February 20, 2018 by John Biscello

To caper at the edge, where the seething lyric happens, poetry with slits and fast teeth, where the hours of phenomena are boiled and reduced to a single quivering instant, an umbilical knot of light upon tenderest scraps and coils. … Continue reading →

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Slingshot

Posted on February 20, 2018 by John Biscello

From a distance, within, the story of a writer’s life in the day of fiction’s living wake.

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Fictioning Anya

Posted on February 19, 2018 by John Biscello

   (Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.)    Anya, Julia weighed the name softly on her tongue. Anya. Wait, she was the one they found in the trashcan when she was a baby, right?    The one and only.    Yes … Continue reading →

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