Monthly Archives: October 2020

Music

Posted on October 29, 2020 by John Biscello

To the call of light, Music, unending, beckons you to harmonize.

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Wonder

Posted on October 29, 2020 by John Biscello

Ask a child, any child, what the difference is between Monday and Thursday? No matter how they respond, look them in the eyes and tell them how wonderful they are.

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Seeds

Posted on October 28, 2020 by John Biscello

The other day I met a monk who juggled watermelon seeds with his tongue. When I asked him how he did it, he spit the seeds at me, a staccato stream of seeds as if the monk were no monk … Continue reading →

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This Way In

Posted on October 28, 2020 by John Biscello

Between passages, a dark pause to recollect the lighted means home.

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Martian Lore

Posted on October 28, 2020 by John Biscello

The Martians, in their conscious longevity, stamped our passports and immigration documents long before our legacy of amnesia broke and we came to realize that everything, including our sense of planetary privilege, has been a sham, a lost man’s desperate … Continue reading →

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Storytelling

Posted on October 28, 2020 by John Biscello

Void is boring, a dull throb. It has no stories to tell. And yet, from the gaping orient of emptiness arises every story imaginable, a turning to peaks and sea-changes galore. It seems void is the company we are destined … Continue reading →

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Tenor

Posted on October 28, 2020 by John Biscello

The difference between I am here and I was here is delicately slight, and not really a matter of tense but rather one of plaited tenor and climate, in which degrees, separating our ghost from our dreams, keeps us shivering … Continue reading →

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Darkroom

Posted on October 27, 2020 by John Biscello

In the darkroom of your own solitude the slowly developing photographs of your life can be recollected forwards, as if chronology were a fugue, and you its vigilant timekeeper, twice removed.

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Signed, Sealed, Delivered

Posted on October 27, 2020 by John Biscello

You can, if you wish, file a million and one embittered complaints to the Universe, but none will bring the strange and mysterious results that a single shred of glimmering gratitude can, its kiss the tenderest seal upon symmetry’s origins.

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Love Is

Posted on October 27, 2020 by John Biscello

I miss you already, the sun-kissed daisy whispered to the migrant flake of snow, which clung like a hopeful bead to the daisy’s delicate petal before dying a lover’s death and melting.

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