Monthly Archives: November 2025

Pinafore

Posted on November 24, 2025 by John Biscello

   Let’s start with the photo, the comic melodrama in which you, perfectly staged, are wearing a blue pinafore dress, your dark hair gagged in pigtails, mouth heavily lipsticked, cheeks cherubically rouged, your eyes two flashing ovals of abyss-pooling licorice, … Continue reading →

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No One Dreams in Color

Posted on November 24, 2025 by John Biscello

Coming April 2026 from Unsolicited Press. Synopsis:Man Vanishes Without a Trace. This, the dramatic headline which stirs Andrew DiBenedetto’s curiosity, and initiates a life-changing course. The vanished man is Paul Kirby, whose nine-minute film, Wendigo—the only film Kirby ever made—was … Continue reading →

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Net Worth

Posted on November 21, 2025 by John Biscello

   Memory slips through one’s fingers, an aggrieved net unable to hold sea or time. Everything floats by and through as intangible, ephemeral.    How to achieve fluency and accuracy of memory, of memory loss? I do not know.    … Continue reading →

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Shard

Posted on November 21, 2025 by John Biscello

In a house of mirrors, every reflection is an indirect representation of an illusion, as misperceived recognition of the source.

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Screen Test

Posted on November 21, 2025 by John Biscello

Memory. How we amass and compile what equates to an archival collection of footage which constitutes an identity, a life … in private screening rooms, we view ourselves, scenes, episodes, and settle ourselves into what comprises identity. Yet there is … Continue reading →

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Straight Out of Toronto

Posted on November 21, 2025 by John Biscello

My interview on All My Books, a podcast aired on MET Radio (Toronto Metrpolitan University) is now streaming. It was fun getting to discuss creative process, indie publishing, inspiration and artistic influences, and I had an opportunity to read an … Continue reading →

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Metrics

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

Dust is time’s response to dreaming. Dreams–desolate, unmade, spectral—wafting as winds carry out the ceremonial twitch of pallbearing.

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Last Picture Show

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

   Does time-resin sting our eyes? Does desolation call forth our most solitary angels? Our loneliest most homesick angels? Desolation allows to become a vagrant, rooted in blessed nobody, divergently attuned to an original script. The wind writes in the … Continue reading →

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Interior

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

   It was a town caught in the pinwheeling stasis between living and dying, between chrysalis and mortuary. I want to examine why it is I am drawn to places like this, why I always return to this specific feeling … Continue reading →

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Niche

Posted on November 19, 2025 by John Biscello

   Let me show you, she said.    She proceeded to open her stomach, almost as if she were made from wood or metal, something not flesh, and it cleanly opened to reveal a dark chamber.    I stood there, … Continue reading →

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