Category Archives: Uncategorized

Homing Device

Posted on October 7, 2019 by John Biscello

The soul doesn’t calculate, it syncs itself to the legend of its origins, the glyphic runes and white-hot bones of constellational remains, where we, in costumed exile, linger and tow the fasting freight of dreams, upon which our lives are … Continue reading →

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Starstuff

Posted on October 6, 2019 by John Biscello

Mariko was a photographer of stars. It feels funny to put it that way. It sounds as if she photographed celebrities.She only took photos of stars in the night sky.  She said the stars were her real home and that’s … Continue reading →

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Mariko

Posted on October 6, 2019 by John Biscello

I knew from the beginning that Mariko was haunted, but there was nothing I could do about it. My only choice was to love her, and until the very end. I have five photographs left of Mariko. I burned all … Continue reading →

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Raspberries

Posted on October 4, 2019 by John Biscello

  Mariko knew a lot of interesting things about space. For example: astronomers theorized that, based on its chemical make-up, the dust from the nebula that gave birth to our sun would taste like raspberries. And that the closer you … Continue reading →

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Growing Legend

Posted on October 3, 2019 by John Biscello

Metamorphosis makes demands on us all, and imposes its necessary will, but love, rooted in omnipresence, is not subject to change. It is a legend, limitless in freight and scope, and famous for its radiant center.

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Autumn Leaves

Posted on September 30, 2019 by John Biscello

Grieving, the swoonlit swans, crying last songs softly into autumn’s russet and moonfed belly.

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Frost

Posted on September 30, 2019 by John Biscello

There is a specific tenor to dreaming in a silent and snowy land. It’s that place where your voice grows brighter, then brittle and glassy, before shattering into a choir of a thousand birds, and everywhere the echoes attempt to … Continue reading →

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What We Talk About When We Talk About Ghosts

Posted on September 29, 2019 by John Biscello

It began in a feral and unnamed country, which was the nerve-center of dreaming. Telephones wires hanging down like snipped umbilicals, like severed hyphens that had lost all sense of meaning and purpose. The telephone poles doubled as crucifixes. You … Continue reading →

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Visitation Rites

Posted on September 27, 2019 by John Biscello

There is no separation, she said. That is such an illusion, the longest-running con-job this side of the moon. Do not believe the shit that comes out of the pipelines of splintered masses. (She knocked on my forehead three times, … Continue reading →

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The Gospel According to John

Posted on September 26, 2019 by John Biscello

“You’ve got to look at old things and see them in a new light.” Bound, as a parishioner to ancient-newness and freeform alchemy, these words issued from the worn, trembling lips of a man called Coltrane, who, with steady bough … Continue reading →

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