Category Archives: Prose

As if Ghosts

Posted on May 16, 2026 by John Biscello

She, as in ghosts, as in white-hot incubi with a seductive glassy not there stare, it bewitches and allures, bears melancholy freighted with scraped knees and mirror shards. There is a lucid unblinking poise, calculated reserve composed of crystal and … Continue reading →

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Eyes

Posted on May 13, 2026 by John Biscello

I could not stare into anyone’s eyes too long. It was like staring openly at the sun. The light was too much to bear. Not to mention, within the stunning field of light projected from eyes were congealed specks and … Continue reading →

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Chronicles

Posted on May 13, 2026 by John Biscello

What is it we’ve done? What is it you’ve done? Mark it down. Make an inventory of jottings that concretize and confirm your fleeting form of being. How did you wake? What was it like sleeping? These happenings these adventures … Continue reading →

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Monkeys

Posted on May 12, 2026 by John Biscello

Monkeys in a dark room, the darkness reeking of lice and mold, the only light coming from the beaconing cherry glow of the cigarettes sticking out of the monkeys’ humpty-hump mouths, typewriters thrill the silence with cacophonous clacking, each and … Continue reading →

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Slow Burn

Posted on May 12, 2026 by John Biscello

Slow burn opens us up to possibilities. It is a birthing method. Slow burn brings with it the feels and the feels sets off vibrato trembles in our bones and deepdown. We bugleforth blessings. A long sentence begets slow burn. … Continue reading →

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Lost and Found

Posted on May 12, 2026 by John Biscello

Who lost, what found? What lost, who found? The world is an endless complex of lost and found. You lose dead skin. Hair follicles take to the sky in ghostly wisps. You excrete today’s breakfast, you ingest animal fat and … Continue reading →

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Here and There

Posted on May 12, 2026 by John Biscello

I am here while I went there. Both things are true. Physically you walked to a place, a tangible and specific location, while mentally and psychically you went elsewhere, you traveled to a different, phantasmal, non-location. You can be in … Continue reading →

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Bough

Posted on May 11, 2026 by John Biscello

At day’s end, the bough breaks, the cradle falls, the songbird returns, and the dreamer watches it all spiring in neutral.

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Morph

Posted on May 11, 2026 by John Biscello

His name is Morph because he is always changing. Her name is Morph because … see above. We are all changelings, all in a state of perpetual morph, that word clipped and pruned from metamorphosis. Morph as in we are … Continue reading →

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Bodyscript

Posted on May 11, 2026 by John Biscello

Body be thy name as prayer made flesh. As prayer marry flesh. Flesh-prayer reaped in daily chronicles of sunlight, flesh exhales us into hospitable swaths and regions of dark, flesh as the ultimate wheelbarrow, sturdy and stable. Until it is … Continue reading →

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