Category Archives: photography

Partitions

Posted on November 14, 2022 by John Biscello

It has been called this mortal longing and we have all hailed there all ached there swearing. Between lisping partitions of rain we seek phantom threads blue gray promising to guide us down unmarked roads to deepening distances. Seeking being … Continue reading →

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The Unseen

Posted on November 14, 2022 by John Biscello

We lie here in fields dreaming unseen and fondle ourselves forgetting ourselves. In intermittent flashes elegies come as summons as reminders advertising what it was like to be human whenever that was. What was it like to be human the … Continue reading →

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Exit Through the Gift Shop

Posted on November 13, 2022 by John Biscello

We’ve heard rumors that God doesn’t know he exists. She exists. It. Whatever the gender or genderless you get the picture. God doesn’t know there is such thing as God that he is this thing we call God this blessed … Continue reading →

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Labyrinth

Posted on November 13, 2022 by John Biscello

You say no more words because it is something to say, a way to get started on using more words to constellate yourself, to orient your innate trembling. Mapless, we wander. To wander, mapless and wordless, what would that be … Continue reading →

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Bone Jig

Posted on November 11, 2022 by John Biscello

My mother’s bones. My mother’s bones resounding in my ears piercing my eardrums. Death rattle of the dusty gourd. Of the earth’s grief calling to us to restore. Calling upon us to become wardens attendants to vibrations crossing passages. To … Continue reading →

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Lasting Born

Posted on November 10, 2022 by John Biscello

Once upon a time is a necessary mirage. Flesh born of lighted word and bones fulfilling myth. Stories are the means to endlessness. They go on and on. We go on and on carried along by stories carrying within them … Continue reading →

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Tender is the Night

Posted on September 18, 2022 by John Biscello
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Rainy Day Woman

Posted on June 1, 2022 by John Biscello

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 →

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Come Wander With Me

Posted on June 1, 2022 by John Biscello

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 →

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Stars

Posted on June 1, 2022 by John Biscello

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.

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