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Author Archives: John Biscello
Altar Piece
We are the stunning brides of tomorrow, dressing up for ritual matrimony in an airless church where children laugh and hurl gulls of rice, and the candles, matching light to symmetry, never go out.
Something Twisted This Way Comes
I was asked to create a customized review list for Shepherd.com, whose goal is to “create an experience like wandering around your favorite bookstore but reimagined fot the online world.” The following is my list: The best books in which mystery … Continue reading
Posted in Books, Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized
Tagged book list, carmen maria machado, david lynch, haruki murakami, her body and other parties, kafka on the shore, mystery, new york trilogy, paul auster, reviews, room to dream, shepherd.com, the natashas, Yelena Moskovich
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Monkeys and Barrels
None of it was going anywhere. It had been a while. Both things were true. Both could be beginnings. So let’s go with both: None of it was going anywhere. It had been a while. I felt like a dehydrated … Continue reading
Rainy Day Woman
When Lucy left the café, I saw her open her umbrella before stepping out into the rain. Her umbrella was red. Her long wool coat was black. These colors, as harmony, stitched together by the rain, echoed within me for … Continue reading
Posted in Books, photography, Prose
Tagged colors, excerpt, lust, no one dreams in color, novel, obsession, rain, rainy woman
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Come Wander With Me
Through grotesquely chapped lips, Bert whistled a bright tune, and managed to keep whistling with melodious tenacity as he and George walked.What’s that tune?I don’t know. Something I heard a long time ago.It’s nice Bert real nice. And the fact … Continue reading
Posted in Books, photography, Prose
Tagged bert williams, comedy is tragedy, desert blues, excerpt, geroge walker, novel, Prose, vaudeville
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Giantess
Between bewildered, and the wildest seasons of time and longing, she derived dreamily the spatial pulse of God’s somnolent core.
Stars
To glean, unerringly,the ripe maternal geniusof soil,she took lucid stockof her originsas a glamorous peasantfrom the cursive fiestaof stars–Words, as sacrosanct bond,became her,if only to negligeethe remote and hidden contoursof her fable unending.
Posted in photography, Poetry
Tagged avant garde, brazil, clarise lispector, homage, literary crush, poem, ukraine, writters I love
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Fleur de Lis
This world,beyond this world,splitting into festive atoms,called upon this woman,beyond this woman,to air with no discretionthe favored breathof blue rosesfalling.
Posted in photography, Poetry
Tagged blue roses, clarise lispector, mystery, poem, the writing life, writer
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