Category Archives: Poetry

Dusting

Posted on July 10, 2019 by John Biscello

You don’t know where the nights go, what apparitions with monstrous appetites do the swallowing. It is a mystery, soundless, unsigned. But what remained in the whorish glare of daytime were all the undigested bits, the flesh creeping with prickly … Continue reading →

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Following

Posted on July 10, 2019 by John Biscello

To become a vagrant to the territory of one’s own self, requires the right kind of corridor, an elliptical sense of fugue, and footfalls which softly echo a stalker’s unmitigated pursuit.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Traces

Posted on July 9, 2019 by John Biscello

The letters ran together, a blur, and vicious assembly, which forced her to comprehend  an absence, with no prints to register.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Under and Above

Posted on July 9, 2019 by John Biscello

As a child, they had tried to scare her with stories of Jaws, and other undersea dangers. Her mother wanted her to be safe, which meant keeping her as close to shore as possible. Now, out there, alone, bobbing, she … Continue reading →

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Folds

Posted on July 9, 2019 by John Biscello

Backlit to claim form, the shadow slipped over her and bared its longing.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Against the Grain

Posted on July 7, 2019 by John Biscello

Two things clawed at her mind— this was no way for a brain to behave, and why couldn’t she remember the fucking mantra, it was designed to help and she sure as shit had paid enough for it. As she … Continue reading →

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Remains of the Day

Posted on July 7, 2019 by John Biscello

From where she sat, the house seemed to be swaddled in sheer gauze, and flickering, like a light that was about to go out. She considered adjusting her view to dispel what must be an illusion, but there was something … Continue reading →

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Minor to Major

Posted on July 5, 2019 by John Biscello

Had she done the right thing? And by right thing what or whose standards was she applying to measure the moral correctness or lack thereof of what she had done? She had grown sick and tired of considering every angle … Continue reading →

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It’s Not What You Think

Posted on July 4, 2019 by John Biscello

As the water softened the earth in the garden, she peered out from under her sunhat to gauge if that dark thing coiled by the fence was really a snake, and if so, by god, could it be smiling?   … Continue reading →

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Inspired by Real Events

Posted on July 4, 2019 by John Biscello

It wasn’t her in the book, but it could be. Why couldn’t it be? If she modeled herself correctly, assuming the strictest code of due fiction, she could rival the heroine between the covers and rest easy, knowing others were … Continue reading →

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