Category Archives: Uncategorized

Homecoming

Posted on November 8, 2016 by John Biscello

Listening to the dark for years on end, the slow and vested maturation of a writer’s craft and homecoming.  

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Rose in Winter

Posted on November 7, 2016 by John Biscello

Inherent is this basking fragility which announces the wild rose, bending devoutly to kiss the earth, as shadow to first love, mighty in its lasting yearn and abandon.

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Aria for Two Voices

Posted on November 6, 2016 by John Biscello

It was perfect in that our distances mirrored one another’s fragile attempts for lasting intimacy, and in reaching we were guaranteed to come up empty yet singing.  

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Fort

Posted on November 6, 2016 by John Biscello

It has become my last refuge, a solitary outpost upon which the broken bit of sun seared into my palm, mirroring stigmata, has given my name as refutable evidence and signature.

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Unbound

Posted on November 4, 2016 by John Biscello

Dancing on the lighted rim of fasting hours, cased within this borrowed corpse, savvy and perishable, and rigged to fade, I bless my ghost, in advance, as it cedes to claim a future plot without my name to bind its … Continue reading →

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Claim

Posted on October 25, 2016 by John Biscello

She, bidden by valid tense, unhooked a claim of stars, and lighted her grief, inverting the symmetry of arc.

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Wacipedia

Posted on October 23, 2016 by John Biscello

It is now commonly accepted that Abraham Lincoln did not hunt vampires nor deliver the Gettysburg Address with the intent of impressing his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln. He did, though, invent the Town Car in the year 1865, though he … Continue reading →

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Pop Culture

Posted on October 23, 2016 by John Biscello

It is a little known fact that the year in which the plague was invented was the same year in which Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize for Literature. When pressed for comment on either the plague or his groundbreaking … Continue reading →

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Faust

Posted on October 23, 2016 by John Biscello

In what historically qualified as the first Cubist new wave work of cinema, we now see that three heads plunged into an anus, while six fingers and a carpenter’s bruised thumb strummed a pot-bellied mandolin was, deconstructively, the only way … Continue reading →

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Spool

Posted on October 23, 2016 by John Biscello

Quartered and dissected in a recursive plunge, she, the candy striped It girl, fell from overexposed grace into a fractious spool of lost prints unclaimed.

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