Monthly Archives: September 2026

False Alarm

Posted on September 21, 2026 by John Biscello

the author in me died a lonely long time ago death (too singular to adapt and stay alive in this new-moving world of word-species and endangered text) the author lying through his teeth to pardon me revived every time the … Continue reading →

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Waltz

Posted on September 21, 2026 by John Biscello

In the latent vernacular and trespass of mind-breaths spanning space-time, crystallized as rapt intimacies and wax seal giving the dreaming-voice its human due and proof of residence, we scratch in lost measure– I Wuz Here– followed by the fading tracks … Continue reading →

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Forest

Posted on September 21, 2026 by John Biscello

Everyone possesses a dark forest. It is, whether geographically or metaphysically, where you are terrified to wander at night, alone. It is the weathervane and divining rod of primal fear. There is an ancient nameless fear that makes your existence … Continue reading →

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Less Traveled

Posted on September 21, 2026 by John Biscello

I am here while I went there. I am near yet faraway. Both things can be true. Let’s say physically you walked to a place, a tangible and specific location, while mentally, psychically, existentially, you went elsewhere: you traveled to … Continue reading →

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Sphinx

Posted on September 21, 2026 by John Biscello

Who lost, what found? What found, who lost? The mystery conched in the mouth of the Sphinx, in a world-spinning complex of lost and found, hide and seek, a series of trespasses breaching parameters wholly invented to keep us trespassing … Continue reading →

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Vespers

Posted on September 18, 2026 by John Biscello

Blues running warm to the touch of wounds fingered and sung in scales leavened by light rising to kiss the mouth of grace unspeakably choir.

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Reverb

Posted on September 18, 2026 by John Biscello

My mother’s face was reflected in the blade of the knife, its penance and scythe, held to her throat like a vicious question. This is the beginning of fiction. Of me splitting from me and birthing other in the creation … Continue reading →

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Daybook

Posted on September 18, 2026 by John Biscello

September is autumn’s mortuary rattle and lisp, its first gasp murmurs, as if lovers kissing underwater syncing, the sacrifice of breath, to the magnetic thrall of darkening descent.

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Ritual de lo Habitual

Posted on September 17, 2026 by John Biscello

I had a decision to make. The world was ending, again. It had ended several times before. To be more accurate: many worlds had ended many times. Anyway, on one hand, there was the imminent end of the world, a … Continue reading →

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Bop

Posted on September 17, 2026 by John Biscello
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