There’s no one left to finger, no one left to blame.
Someone sang that. I wish I had sung that. I didn’t. I echo. I am echoes proliferating like genetically disturbed rabbits. Maybe neurodivergent rabbits copulating is a better term, I don’t know. I am made of echoes and uncomfortable silences. Uncomfortable because they demand to be heard, demand to be outed. Echoes can be really mean uncles. Or dictators with steel prods. The words are a placeholder for being here, for staying here. They go where I can’t. Where I won’t.
In the preferred company of words, a slow monarchy and infirmary is formed. Words paper over silence and wounds. Something about the dark blesses us.
About John Biscello
Originally from Brooklyn, NY, novelist, poet, performer, playwright and filmmaker, John Biscello, has lived in the high-desert grunge-wonderland of Taos, New Mexico since 2001.
He is the author of six novels, Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, Nocturne Variations, No Man’s Brooklyn, The Last Furies, and No One Dreams in Color; a collection of stories, Freeze Tag, two poetry collections, Arclight and Moonglow on Mercy Street; and a fable, The Jackdaw and the Doll, illustrated by Izumi Yokoyama. He also adapted classic fables, which were paired with the vintage illustrations of artist, Paul Bransom, for the collection: Once Upon a Time, Classic Fables Reimagined. His plays have been staged and performed both nationally and internationally.
