Tag Archives: confession

Cask

Posted on June 6, 2018 by John Biscello

It was, in a state of psychic undress, where I found I wanted to reveal, more than to confess, scoring a litany of wounds, and bruised valentines, to the expectant cask of woman’s fired dawn, beyond reproof, and failsafe fronts.

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In My Solitude

Posted on June 3, 2018 by John Biscello

It is, for me, as well as other writers of a certain breed, a familiar haunt and barbed echo, that fear of being found out and exposed as a fraud and imposter, some busted metaphor that won’t hold up under … Continue reading →

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