Category Archives: Uncategorized

Lip Reading

Posted on November 26, 2018 by John Biscello

Kissing, where the vibrato slug of tongue plugs in to electrical temporal heaven for a singed sprint through molten puddles.

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Instructions on How to Use a Blade

Posted on November 26, 2018 by John Biscello

To ask how deep is not the right question of the blade, but rather, how much moon, if any, is reflected in the silver of your teeth when piercing skin to venerate pink?

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Flow Chart

Posted on November 26, 2018 by John Biscello

There’s something about filing a mortal grievance with angels that’s reassuring. As if, there you are, casually adrift on a slow-moving first-class glassy blue glacier, going out to sea, and you cheerfully wave goodbye to yourself, entrusting the course of … Continue reading →

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Cabinet

Posted on November 26, 2018 by John Biscello

A white room. Like burnished ivory, like karmic burden. Cut to a close-up on the back of a shaved head and neck. Several scars are visible on the back of the head. Cut to a medium distance shot, in which … Continue reading →

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Animal Crackers

Posted on November 25, 2018 by John Biscello

Sunny afternoon. A town square. In the middle of the town square a burlap sack covering someone, or something. A crowd gathered around the sack. MAN #1 Do you know who he belonged to? WOMAN #1 We don’t know that … Continue reading →

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State of Address

Posted on November 25, 2018 by John Biscello

A salon. After hours. Dimly lit. We see a red styling chair. Behind it are a counter and a wide mounted mirror. In the right upper-corner of the frame there are dismembered mannequins set against a wall. The salon OWNER, … Continue reading →

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All the Young Joans

Posted on November 25, 2018 by John Biscello

Afternoon in a park. Wide shot of charred patches of grass. Cut to a hand, in a fingerless glove, reaching down to touch the grass. Cut to teenage girl, JOAN #1, kneeling, her fingers moving through the grass. Her friend, … Continue reading →

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Street Song

Posted on November 25, 2018 by John Biscello

Screen black. Sounds of traffic. Fade in to city street at night. Cut to traffic lamp turning green to red. Cut to other shots of the city at night. Cut to a MERMAID, lying in the middle of a street … Continue reading →

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In the Belly Of

Posted on November 25, 2018 by John Biscello

In the softest pit of my belly, the masticating angel, the glowing renegade with milkbone teeth, eats me alive, and spits me back out into the world, half-light, half-silence, the happy miscarriage of identity winnowing the essential me from I.

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Lure

Posted on November 25, 2018 by John Biscello

He had traveled many crooked side-streets and shadow-scripted back-alleys to arrive at this point. The white-hot lure and bait of the angel, who had played hard to get, beckoned, with an ineffable wink.

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