Monthly Archives: August 2022

A Man Walks Into

Posted on August 25, 2022 by John Biscello

   A man walks into a man. He realizes it’s the same man … they’re … the same man. They merge. Naturally. Inviolably. A man walks into a man and a merger occurs.    Who was I before I walked … Continue reading →

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Baffling the Sphinx

Posted on August 14, 2022 by John Biscello

The word is my fourth dimension–Clarice Lispector And on the eighth and endless day, where the bottomless hallelujah meets Ouroboros, God created Clarice Lispector. Maybe. Maybe the music of that name was more pure music and vivid living syntax, and … Continue reading →

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Dust in the Wind

Posted on August 12, 2022 by John Biscello

Much here is caked in dust. Dust-skinned dogs and dust-skinned horses. Dust-coated houses in ruin, the staccato of ruins, the oldlife song of decay, dreams move sluggishly here at the pace of dust, the swirling eddies of dust, dust in … Continue reading →

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Affair to Remember

Posted on August 12, 2022 by John Biscello

Sea, I never want to marry you. I want us to have a never-ending fling, a love affair flooded with longing and desire … I want to miss you … want to remain missably yours … want to miss you … Continue reading →

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Sentenced

Posted on August 12, 2022 by John Biscello

I, a lone comma pulsing within the voluptuous grammar of the ocean.

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Judy Garland

Posted on August 11, 2022 by John Biscello

   You’ve got to make up your mind, he said. Do you want to fuck Judy Garland or be Judy Garland?    It seemed my entire life would be determined by how I responded. I could tell, by the gravelly … Continue reading →

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Newsflash

Posted on August 11, 2022 by John Biscello

Heaven commits the meek to memory. Amnesia forgets itself to leaven the uninhibited rise of days lusting after dreams this side up.

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Borneo on Mars

Posted on August 11, 2022 by John Biscello

There is the glass ashtray. The mangled cigarettes. The hotel room. The window open with the breeze coming in, ruffling the curtains. The breeze is lace fingers. Tiny fingers. There is the unevenly applied lipstick. The besieged housemaid. There is … Continue reading →

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Cherry and Claudia

Posted on August 11, 2022 by John Biscello

She asked me to touch her. Down there. It’s been so long, she said. I feel like a coffin. Just use your fingers. I was reluctant. When she said—It’s just your hand, it’s not you—I thought—It’s just my hand, not … Continue reading →

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As Fate Would Have It

Posted on August 11, 2022 by John Biscello

“Fate will have it—and this has always been the case with me—that all the ‘outer’ aspects of my life should be accidental. Only what is interior has proved to have substance and a determining value.” — Carl Jung He knew … Continue reading →

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