Monthly Archives: November 2022

Time Enough At Last

Posted on November 17, 2022 by John Biscello

Time, the sound of time racing through our ears, slipping past us, children’s bicycles the sound of brrrrrringgg brrrrrringggg, bells on bicycles brrrrrringgging, and the children become more or less old then more or less dead and we hold funerals … Continue reading →

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Walk This Way

Posted on November 17, 2022 by John Biscello

There is the future. There is other future when tramps ambling shuffle-footed across failed roads, across dust-pecked destinies, along citywalks imitating lizard-toed pigeons, tramps with newspaper hats and brown bag hearts billowing and contracting and reeking of long past lunchrooms, … Continue reading →

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In Our Solitude

Posted on November 17, 2022 by John Biscello

Near to the bones of warming solitude. Within vagrancy’s timelocked spells we wander you could say we are wanderstruck. Modes of lyrical living allows us to bask in living alone in the company of words stories voices. For them we … Continue reading →

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Company of Echoes

Posted on November 17, 2022 by John Biscello

Near to the bones of warming solitude we wildly graze. We are out here in this place where our vagrancies are enabled by the mass grace of words stories voices that roots us home. At home with solitude we are … Continue reading →

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Woven

Posted on November 16, 2022 by John Biscello

In the beginning the dreaming not the word. The word came later. It came whenever and betrayed silence and this was the beginning of fiction. Now you’ve got what passes for a world of dreaming of fiction and parallels splintered … Continue reading →

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Cameo

Posted on November 16, 2022 by John Biscello

Our lot is a sorry one also blessed. None of us object. Out here we feast on slimming heaps of gratitude. No one is greedy. No one complains. We no longer expect answers from the answerless even though we keep … Continue reading →

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Tramps

Posted on November 16, 2022 by John Biscello

It has become hymnal. The lasting proof. The lusting after the lasting proof the music. This is not proust. Then again everything is proust because everyone in search of lost time cycling through guises manias assassins guesses all the rest. … Continue reading →

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Found Lost

Posted on November 15, 2022 by John Biscello

We recall fondly. We recollect. The good old days in which we titled windmills redolently and rode clanging dusty boxcars across the glaring horizontal spread of america. What a lay we said hitching up our pants sticking our peckers into … Continue reading →

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Watchword

Posted on November 15, 2022 by John Biscello

Grief lies here like an insomniac pining for sleep. Like scissors running dull to the touch of fate. We paper over grief its ruins and brittle slates with hordes of torn pages. Forget me nots band aids christ sporting a … Continue reading →

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Nocturne

Posted on November 15, 2022 by John Biscello

In not so many words I found my wanting voice warming and calling out to you almost. It was going to say things about blues and greens I think in relation to the sea in relation to your eyes. I … Continue reading →

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