Monthly Archives: July 2018

Dive Bar

Posted on July 22, 2018 by John Biscello

To have and to hold and to let go, repeatedly, breathing lessons for skin divers in mortal dread of sea changes.

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Dreamlife for the Living

Posted on July 22, 2018 by John Biscello

It is really just one long dream interrupted in thorny intervals by fictions that we mistake for realities, the single white feather floating like a tangible sliver of breath on the river’s cyclical surface tells you all you need to … Continue reading →

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Haikuless

Posted on July 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Moondrip down her thighs– No haikus can cover this mystical turn-on.

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Such Sweet: A Savage’s Manual

Posted on July 21, 2018 by John Biscello

To break the company of skin, with new conscienceless teeth, the animal and the moon drip hot evenly in parting unison.

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Mmmm

Posted on July 21, 2018 by John Biscello

There is need beyond words for which my tongue, engaged to the slow-burning loll and bib of cherry wet, demands immediate exact placement of her body as an open-flowered storm of scent and rapture, a fragrant tumble, unlettered, ribbed silence … Continue reading →

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Stones, Passing

Posted on July 19, 2018 by John Biscello

At the carnival I was most intrigued by the stone-swallower. A waifish bronze-skinned lady with dark hair, plaited, and slender fingers. I was rapt, watching the way she carefully arranged the stones to form a sort of pyramid at her … Continue reading →

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Hands

Posted on July 17, 2018 by John Biscello

This is the text which inspired the story I performed in a Story Slam a couple of years back. The theme was “Risk.” Here’s a video clip of the presentation (sorry, it’s sideways, but then again, so am I). One … Continue reading →

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The Monk That Got Down

Posted on July 16, 2018 by John Biscello

Today was strange. The sweet, quiet, solemn, solitary monk who lives in the cork-lined antechamber inside me was dancing. This is not something I have ever seen him do. I went to visit him, expecting the usual: him hunched over … Continue reading →

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Opiate

Posted on July 15, 2018 by John Biscello

To touch loneliness, unabated, the barest cherish, play of smile running softly on meant fingers, to keep yourself company, all that lovely sweet nothingness, gauged in lofty opiate whispers, trailing, then silence.

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Honeycomb

Posted on July 14, 2018 by John Biscello

The deep bass drum of laughter, a resounding prayer, no more forgetting who I am, the well of memory has been stirred, and my bones, in turn, have been dared to splinter, the cracks between worlds, widening, inviting me to … Continue reading →

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