Category Archives: Uncategorized

Childhood’s Wake

Posted on August 30, 2019 by John Biscello

You can feel it in the air, a razory sheen, all the childhoods that were lost or stolen or seized or buried to model catacombs and secret lairs, are returning to the surface bigtime, the reclaimants growing new teeth and … Continue reading →

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Song of Hope

Posted on August 30, 2019 by John Biscello

They kill poets in these parts don’t they? When I got here I saw Walt Whitman’s wizened head out back impaled on a stake flies buzzing round its concomitant rot and stench I heard one of the locals say it … Continue reading →

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As You Desire

Posted on August 26, 2019 by John Biscello

Free from staid context, and the fragile lull of fate, she had come a long unmapped way to create a new set of illusions by which to set and frame her course.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Gone Again

Posted on August 23, 2019 by John Biscello

Under a sunstreaked tree, rough bark against skin, texture of a stolen kiss— She was touched, and saddened too, that these days it was her ghost who did most of her living for her, amidst the brackish ebb and flow … Continue reading →

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The Mission

Posted on August 23, 2019 by John Biscello

There were places she hadn’t been, wilds within that had escaped her gravely silent stalking. A fuse had been lit. Concentration was required. And stillness. The kind of stillness that would bring her face to face with the deeply unremembered … Continue reading →

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Neo-Realism

Posted on August 22, 2019 by John Biscello

There was something about a white telephone, unringing, that made her think of tightly wound spirals of cigarette-smoke in Italian films, or poorly lit hotel rooms where actresses played to the pall of their silence and wanting. Any moment now, … Continue reading →

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Want Ad

Posted on August 22, 2019 by John Biscello

After one year, one month, and two days, what she called her unsentimental education, she understood the city to be both a cryptic boneyard and high-rise projection which excluded her from any real contact. God, how she loved holding it … Continue reading →

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Welcome to the Terrordome

Posted on August 22, 2019 by John Biscello

She remembered how her friend used to say fear was an acronym for False Evidence Appearing Real. Another one she had come across— Fuck Everything and Run. She was, at present, beyond the scope and warrant of both acronyms. Real … Continue reading →

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Icarus, Remixed

Posted on August 19, 2019 by John Biscello

I was Icarus with double-edged wings once upon a time. The dreamer’s big eyes, full of flames and longing, the impetuous nature, the jazz of my soaring, all of it defined me as the blaring antithesis to my dad’s son-proofed … Continue reading →

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In Praise of Ryokan

Posted on August 15, 2019 by John Biscello

The moon, melting liquid frost onto my window, slips through my fingers, as I recall that legendary jewel thief who once pulled off an impossible heist, which, to this day, the right kind of fools, lovers and lunatics, constellate their … Continue reading →

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