Tag Archives: death

Room

Posted on December 2, 2025 by John Biscello

   She was an avid writer of obscure texts. Her obscure texts, which related to identity, language and alienation, rendered the topics as and through compound fractures. She adopted the brokenness and mirrored it obscurely in brokenness. Self/reflecting through heretical … Continue reading →

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Flint

Posted on November 30, 2025 by John Biscello

   I came across what was no longer there, and thought—Burning books isn’t so terrible. What is a far worse fate for books, what really transforms them into grave casualties: apathy.    Indifference and neglect of books is a much … Continue reading →

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Pinafore

Posted on November 24, 2025 by John Biscello

   Let’s start with the photo, the comic melodrama in which you, perfectly staged, are wearing a blue pinafore dress, your dark hair gagged in pigtails, mouth heavily lipsticked, cheeks cherubically rouged, your eyes two flashing ovals of abyss-pooling licorice, … Continue reading →

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Death Rides in on a Pony

Posted on November 20, 2024 by John Biscello

When Death showed up on a broken-down pony, I scoffed. This, really? What, Death said, looking around, unsure as to who or what I was referring. You’re Death, right? Yes. THE Death? You can check my I.D. And you’ve come … Continue reading →

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Out of Silence

Posted on November 10, 2024 by John Biscello

Beckett spoke about it: the inability to keep quiet. The inability to not say stories, to not make stories, to not find oneself shaped according to stories fitted to shifting forms. Beckett, with gallows irony, talked plenty about silences. He … Continue reading →

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Blue

Posted on February 22, 2024 by John Biscello

I knew this. Even before I met her, I knew this. But she, as an explicit confirmation, as a caretaker and symbiotic mouthpiece to my unsaid secrets, said, and so concisely—Dreams come out of the blue, returning to the blue. … Continue reading →

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Play

Posted on February 22, 2024 by John Biscello

I have to imagine her death from every conceivable angle. She has assured me she will disappear, said that dying is a trick of the light, and everyone was enamored of the mirage, convinced, in on it, the gag. When … Continue reading →

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Love and Death

Posted on February 8, 2024 by John Biscello

The branch of the tree reaching down. It reaches down to graze the time-scarred headstone, to caress it. Could this be … a secret love story, a love story with no history, or with a cortege of history, spanning many … Continue reading →

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Melodrama

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

Let’s start with this photo, the comic melodrama in which you, perfectly staged, are wearing a blue pinafore dress, your dark hair gagged in pigtails, mouth heavily lipsticked, cheeks cherubically rouged, your eyes two burning ovals of abyss-pooling licorice, sweat … Continue reading →

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Notices

Posted on December 27, 2023 by John Biscello

When you die, tell everyone there has been a change of address, and you will send the new coordinates as soon as you have them. When you die, tell everyone you are taking a trip to somewhere you’ve never been, … Continue reading →

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