Tag Archives: ceremony

Metrics

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

Dust is time’s response to dreaming. Dreams–desolate, unmade, spectral—wafting as winds carry out the ceremonial twitch of pallbearing.

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

Her Body, Her Name

Posted on November 18, 2025 by John Biscello

   It was a time in her life when she was not there, not inside herself or her life. And she was pregnant. Pregnant by the wrong man, so many wrong turns and wrong men, and this one, a mislaid … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Winter

Posted on November 17, 2025 by John Biscello

   I say my mother’s grief was white on white … I say this, but this is not true all the time. The colors change. My mother’s grief has been pink, blue, red. Yet, more and more, when I am … Continue reading →

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

Vigil

Posted on November 17, 2025 by John Biscello

When I watched my mother brush her hair, it made a scraping electric sound: vibrating plastic teeth sinking repeatedly into a fuzzy animal. I loved watching my mother brush her hair. I’d make sure to always stand behind her, so … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Pirate Radio

Posted on November 13, 2025 by John Biscello

   Hips don’t lie. They are the truth-telling giants and the whistle-blowers transmitting through pirate radio. They are also the catacombs and weather satellites of one’s cumulative genealogy. When an old person falls and breaks their hip, it is not … Continue reading →

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

Process and Zeitgeist

Posted on November 6, 2025 by John Biscello

It was what Crowfeather called the Blue Star ceremony, or Above Air ceremony. It took place on Winter Solstice 2020. It wad during the enigmatic, unsettling and ominous period of COVID, the virus that was upsetting the balance of the … Continue reading →

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

No Dominion

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

Dark. Lights up. Piles of sand on stage. Reddish sand. In some areas, the sand is piled high, forming mini-dunes. In other areas, thin flat layers. Sticking out of the sand are shards of glass. A woman lying on stage … Continue reading →

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

Test Dummies

Posted on February 18, 2024 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from Worlds Last Imagined, novel in progress). We saw them carrying life-sized dummies to the town square. It was eerie how each dummy so closely resembled the person who was carrying it. We watched as all the dummies were … Continue reading →

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

Funereal

Posted on February 17, 2024 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from Worlds Last Imagined, novel in progress.) Last night Ariana and I attended our own funerals. It was something we did from time to time. We saw ourselves, lying there, pretending to be dead, saw a wavering horde of … Continue reading →

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

You Are Here

Posted on October 23, 2020 by John Biscello

To venerate, the privilege of air inside the ceremony of lungs and chance, where you, as an honored guest, get to ripen and breathe the adventure of your name into a free-range universe.

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