Monthly Archives: November 2020

The Last Days of Jack Kerouac, a film-poem

Posted on November 5, 2020 by John Biscello

1. Setting: A waterfront saloon. The wooden floor thatched in dull golden sawdust plus the acrid scent of piss wafting in from the urinal. 2. Cut to: A broad-shouldered man slumped on his barstool. The camera notices that the legs … Continue reading →

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The Other Election, or, If Prince Were President

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

On this day I have cast my vote in electing my soul now and again to serve as my guide, compass, captain and architect in getting through this thing called life, electric word life meaning forever, according to Prince’s prophetic … Continue reading →

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Dreamlife for the Living

Posted on November 3, 2020 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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Bliss-Following and Fool’s Play

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

To follow your bliss you must kiss your demons squarely on their mouths lancing their sealed lips with a flaming tongue perpetrating tango between worlds where love consumes every last thorny bit.

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Backroads

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

Traveling mapless backroads, I found heaven looking for me.

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Conscripture

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

It is not me you are looking for, it is you. We dress and undress as mirrors, conscripting images to burn and cherish, to reveal and reflect the many sides of a lighted front, a sideways turn, modeling love in … Continue reading →

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Conscripture

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

It is not me you are looking for, it is you. We dress and undress as mirrors, conscripting images to burn and cherish, to reveal and reflect the many sides of a lighted front, a sideways turn, modeling love in … Continue reading →

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