Tag Archives: dust

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

Interior

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

   It was a town caught in the pinwheeling stasis between living and dying, between chrysalis and mortuary. I want to examine why it is I am drawn to places like this, why I always return to this specific feeling … Continue reading →

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

Dust

Posted on December 8, 2022 by John Biscello
Posted in Audio, photography, Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Our Lady of Dust

Posted on December 8, 2022 by John Biscello
Posted in Audio, photography, Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Our Lady of Dust

Posted on November 21, 2022 by John Biscello

They taught us dust. Those were our lessons. There were other lessons but allegedly none more important than the lessons in dust the sermons. We dreamed dust. We ate dust. There was dust favoring the sunlight insisting upon the rotting … Continue reading →

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

Breathing Lessons

Posted on November 21, 2022 by John Biscello

In school they taught us how to breathe differently. There were other lessons but this was considered the most important one. We had to learn a new way of breathing. Techniques, exercises: what to do, what not to do. They … Continue reading →

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

Scratch

Posted on October 31, 2022 by John Biscello

Once upon a time before people were monsters. When people didn’t eat each other. Out here we’ve got to be careful. I defected. I became fugitive singular. I defected from plural, from we. I defected so as to claim I … Continue reading →

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

Dust in the Wind

Posted on August 12, 2022 by John Biscello

Much here is caked in dust. Dust-skinned dogs and dust-skinned horses. Dust-coated houses in ruin, the staccato of ruins, the oldlife song of decay, dreams move sluggishly here at the pace of dust, the swirling eddies of dust, dust in … Continue reading →

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

Girl on a Bike

Posted on August 5, 2022 by John Biscello

   I bike through the swirling dust. The dust pinches my skin. The dust is cinematic. It seems, nowadays, everything is cinematic. Novels, TV, reality, cinema … dust. We have become cinemanesthasized. We are in a trance. How long will … Continue reading →

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

Ashes to Ashes

Posted on January 4, 2018 by John Biscello

Out of the ash-heap, she imagined something new would emerge, but when the wind blew and scattered the ashes to reveal nothing but scorch-marks upon scarred earth, she understood, with a great sense of loss, that form followed function only … Continue reading →

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