Category Archives: Poetry

Net Worth

Posted on November 21, 2025 by John Biscello

   Memory slips through one’s fingers, an aggrieved net unable to hold sea or time. Everything floats by and through as intangible, ephemeral.    How to achieve fluency and accuracy of memory, of memory loss? I do not know.    … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Shard

Posted on November 21, 2025 by John Biscello

In a house of mirrors, every reflection is an indirect representation of an illusion, as misperceived recognition of the source.

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Screen Test

Posted on November 21, 2025 by John Biscello

Memory. How we amass and compile what equates to an archival collection of footage which constitutes an identity, a life … in private screening rooms, we view ourselves, scenes, episodes, and settle ourselves into what comprises identity. Yet there is … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Straight Out of Toronto

Posted on November 21, 2025 by John Biscello

My interview on All My Books, a podcast aired on MET Radio (Toronto Metrpolitan University) is now streaming. It was fun getting to discuss creative process, indie publishing, inspiration and artistic influences, and I had an opportunity to read an … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Metrics

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

Dust is time’s response to dreaming. Dreams–desolate, unmade, spectral—wafting as winds carry out the ceremonial twitch of pallbearing.

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Last Picture Show

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

   Does time-resin sting our eyes? Does desolation call forth our most solitary angels? Our loneliest most homesick angels? Desolation allows to become a vagrant, rooted in blessed nobody, divergently attuned to an original script. The wind writes in the … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Interior

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

   It was a town caught in the pinwheeling stasis between living and dying, between chrysalis and mortuary. I want to examine why it is I am drawn to places like this, why I always return to this specific feeling … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Niche

Posted on November 19, 2025 by John Biscello

   Let me show you, she said.    She proceeded to open her stomach, almost as if she were made from wood or metal, something not flesh, and it cleanly opened to reveal a dark chamber.    I stood there, … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

All My Books

Posted on November 19, 2025 by John Biscello

Interview on All my Books, a podcast aired on MET RAdio (Toronto Metropolitan University).

Posted in Audio, Books, Cinema, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Her Body, Her Name

Posted on November 18, 2025 by John Biscello

   It was a time in her life when she was not there, not inside herself or her life. And she was pregnant. Pregnant by the wrong man, so many wrong turns and wrong men, and this one, a mislaid … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment