Tag Archives: existential

Way Station

Posted on December 19, 2025 by John Biscello

   I am waiting. There I am, see me, waiting on the train station platform. I am waiting for my train. It is a specific train that I am waiting for. When a train begins pulling into the station, I … Continue reading →

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Matroyshka

Posted on December 16, 2025 by John Biscello

   He often reflected, while writing, upon himself, writing: reflecting another. Who he was, who he was not. Absence and presence locked in intimate simultaneity, a cogent pairing. Who is this Other, writing? And does he reflect upon me? Why … Continue reading →

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Screen Test

Posted on November 21, 2025 by John Biscello

Memory. How we amass and compile what equates to an archival collection of footage which constitutes an identity, a life … in private screening rooms, we view ourselves, scenes, episodes, and settle ourselves into what comprises identity. Yet there is … 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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A Man Walks Into

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

A man walks into a man. He realizes it’s the same man … they’re … the same man. They merge. Naturally. Inviolably. A man walks into a man and a merger occurs. Who was I before I walked into myself? … Continue reading →

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Storyless

Posted on June 6, 2018 by John Biscello

There is no story greater than the one you don’t tell yourself, silence and lighted space inviting wonder and mystery to pool at the center of who you are beyond facile descriptions and prior claims.

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Kin

Posted on May 22, 2018 by John Biscello

There are chambers inside myself I have yet to discover or visit, for example, that one room rumored to contain a monk in tattered robes hunched over a yellow table benignly autistic in his relations to text and verses which … Continue reading →

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Note to Self

Posted on May 13, 2018 by John Biscello

Words, the right ones, ripe and engorged, outgrow the necessary dark inside you and, abiding the laws of catch and release, demand light, air, voice. Beware atrophy, the root killer, and do not leave language, ingrown, unattended.

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Bliss

Posted on May 8, 2018 by John Biscello

To follow your bliss you must kiss your demons squarely on their mouths lancing their sealed lips with a flaming tongue perpetrating tango between worlds where love consumes every last thorny bit.

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Shrift

Posted on May 8, 2018 by John Biscello

The soft bop and shrift of dreams, how they rake and tumble, colored Braille for a blind vagrant, stunned.

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