Flight Patterns

A flight of stairs, a flight of birds, a flight of fancy … fly into a bar and the barkeep asks—Which one of you is the fastest? No one answered. They were, in essence, conceptual. Conceptual kin. Three different ways of flying. Do the stairs and birds and fancy see themselves as kindred spirits, as relations, due to their shared “flights?” Upon scrutiny and philosophical consideration, you could say the birds are the realest of the three. The birds with their tiny beating hearts and feathery warmth and offspring. The stairs would be second in that they are solid, dependable, tangible. Fancy is an etheric and abstract term, a sliver of the immaterial, and so that would qualify as the least realistic of the three, yet … does not a flight of fancy promote winged and stair-like excursions to things and places that very muchunder the legislative purview: real. Are ideas real? A different kind of real, a dreaming-real, do ideas possess their own dream-life, carry implicitly within them hopes and aspirations to grow and materialize into something, the journey from placeless place to location, form and zone, ideas requiring attentive and engaged nurturance and caretaking? A flight of stairs, a flight of birds, and a flight of fancy are, in essence, the conceptual progeny of a mother-noun: flight. If called flighty stairs, flighty birds, flighty fancy, they would be adjectival kin. If classed flying stairs, flying birds, flying fancy, they would be verb cousins. Language is bond and adhesive. It is also qualifier, co-conspirator, and progenitor when it comes to raising and defining reality.

A flight of stairs, a flight of birds, and a flight of fancy fly into a bar and the bartender asks—Would you like a round of drinks, a round ball, or a round of golf?

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Company

Out of the deeply forested genus and enclosure,

scotophobic—fear of the dark—

emerges the rawest most primal material

from which stories are called and founded,

blackly lacquered honey

staccato in its slow-drip molasses and narcotic salve,

keeping us calm archival company

through distress-signals

flooded and fired within.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Domain

In the latent

vernacular of gist—

mind breaths in space time

crystallized as rapt intimacies

give the dreaming voice

its human due

and proof of residence—

Fading tracks the ghostly course

of diminishing returns

within a poem’s lasting domain

and strident measure.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

No One Dreams in Color

Now available to buy through Unsolicited Press, Barnes & Noble, Asterisim, Booktopia, ThriftBooks, Book Delico, and wherever book are sold.

Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Last Furies

Print edition available through Lost Telegram Press.
Audio-book edition (narrated by the author, with a preface by the publisher) available through Google Books, Booktopia, Audiobooks Now, Bookmate, Downpour, Libro F.M., Audiobooks.com, and many other outlets, including Lost Telegram Press.

Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

This Book Doesn’t Resolve Itself

“So many novels are built around control. Even when they deal with rupture, they shape it into something we can grapple with. Events lead somewhere. Meaning accumulates in a way that can be tracked. By the end, the reader understands not only what happened, but how to leave the book. No One Dreams in Color ignores that contract.

It begins with a disappearance, suggesting a trajectory. A missing filmmaker, a writer compelled to follow the trail, a remote town waiting to be entered and interpreted. The structure is familiar enough that you can feel yourself settling into it, preparing for the usual exchange: attention in return for clarity. That exchange never arrives, and that is what makes No One Dreams in Color so fascinating. Biscello does not give you what you expect from a novel.”– U.P.

Read the full review here:

https://www.unsolicitedpress.com/news/this-book-doesnt-resolve-thats-not-a-flaw

Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Glaze

Solitude waxing blankly

in the company of words—

Moon’s forecast: warm, gospel, and fuzzy.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Vigil

Clouds,

fleecy in glaring mass,

softly, softly,

the words tender themselves

to silence in passing.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Compass

It could be called Variations on Love,

how we find each other again

and again,

in different modes and phases,

nearness teased out of growth’s grinning desire

to story and multiply, to bring lives

into exquisite sync

and pulse—

This, our starstruck compass

and calling,

to find each other again

and again,

in waves of liminal enclosure.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Enclosure

Her body,

her body breaking in time,

a vivid stutter and scratch,

repeated in my mind’s amateur attempts

to braid or grasp

what amounts to sand in wind—

Life,

oh life,

a series of manic shutters

and twitches,

threaded to a sky’s sleepless passing

without custom or concern—

Her body,

tracked to memory

as fable and sorrow,

none of it lasting,

yet sublime nearness

when water meets its own level

in paired distances.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment