Tag Archives: art

Chair

Posted on March 15, 2018 by John Biscello

No sitters to tend, solvent to its own winter, if these floors could talk.   (Installation by Izumi Yokoyama)

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Closer

Posted on March 11, 2018 by John Biscello

You said you knew me, but really, what did you know? Closer, I dare you.   (Photo by Man Ray)    

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Trinity

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Beware the airless room, without light, laughter and love, a Trinity beyond reckon, none of it is worth a good goddamn.    

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Comeback

Posted on January 28, 2018 by John Biscello

Everything we attempt and seal creatively, every last and first word completed, reigns as beautiful failure, a mortal short-hand and forger’s touching testament to the Source, rounding what dreams may come and fade and come again.      

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Wellspring

Posted on January 10, 2018 by John Biscello

Through the grace of repetition, the writing life grounded in the slow, wistful measures of wellspring’s fortune.

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Monster

Posted on January 7, 2018 by John Biscello

Fiction is a monster. It demands, it consumes. It is a glutton. Enough is never enough. It won’t be satisfied until the unreal becomes utterly real, beyond real. Its sole desire is to usurp reality, to surpass it. It basks … Continue reading →

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Of Time and the River

Posted on January 3, 2018 by John Biscello

   One thing we cannot recover is time.    Perhaps that’s what I have been trying to do.    Perhaps that’s what every writer, as a fugitive stalker, as a heartsick orphan, as the fool-hero in their own movie is … Continue reading →

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Quest

Posted on January 3, 2018 by John Biscello

One thing we cannot recover is time. And perhaps every writer, as a fugitive stalker, as a fool-hero on a desperate quest, sets himself this glorious, impossible task, the solvent recovery of time through the mortal fetters of a merciful … Continue reading →

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Measure

Posted on December 29, 2017 by John Biscello

A sense of removal raveled in intimacy and ghostly union, a sense of closeness achieved on the periphery where fools dance an impossible jig to fulfill absence.

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The Writing Life

Posted on December 10, 2017 by John Biscello

Pen, referencing a glossary of soul, scratches out excess to clarify Eternity, finger-holds, tenuous at best, dignify the mount of a marvelously impossible task.

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