Tag Archives: God

Directions Home

Posted on September 28, 2021 by John Biscello

Excerpt from No One Dreams in Color, a novel-in-progress. Bob Dylan, Carl Jung and Leonard Cohen walk into a bar in heaven… Dylan was dressed like a tramp clown, wearing a battered calico vest, baggy trousers, and a dusty bowler. … Continue reading →

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Comic Relief

Posted on November 11, 2020 by John Biscello

“God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh”–Voltaire Philosophy, like the proverbial weasel, goes POP, as God, sporting a Groucho Marx get-up (you know, the glasses, the eyebrows, the cigar) delivers gags and zingers, turning the … Continue reading →

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Claim for the Meek

Posted on November 24, 2019 by John Biscello

I do not want to see the face of God. I want to see her mask, where and for whom it cracked, the causal history of lines and fissures; want to trace, with blind mute innocence, the light quartered and … Continue reading →

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Raising the Bar

Posted on September 18, 2019 by John Biscello

   Dylan Thomas falls off his barstool in Heaven.    Lying on the sawdusty floor, he slurs something about a white horse. And chains, and the sea.    God, who gave Lucifer the night off, is tending bar. He comes … Continue reading →

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Hearing Aid

Posted on April 19, 2019 by John Biscello

The graffitied veins of the cosmos bleed a ruptured interplay of so much noiseless static in God’s ears drumming to shape wonder.   (Artwork by Jackson Pollock)

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Ghostprints

Posted on April 3, 2019 by John Biscello

Long before there was Adam’s itchy rib and Eve’s ruptured spleen there was a travesty of hands a transversal flowerbed of fngers reaching in jilted unsion to grasp not the meaning of God but rather the infinitely sweeping hem of … Continue reading →

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Runes

Posted on November 13, 2018 by John Biscello

There is the cracking– thin, brittle chafings of bones begging to splinter, to silver holy music through darkened hollows, and there is us, Love’s loneliest brood, spelled out like vagrant relics, like glistening runes, upon God’s most silent scattered linen.

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Prayer

Posted on July 13, 2018 by John Biscello

Thank you, is the simplest and most profound prayer I know, borne along on a sea of breath, it returns to itself, the divinest echo from God’s muse to my lips.

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Lovesworn

Posted on July 12, 2018 by John Biscello

If I could grow my arms the length of God I’d hug the entire world until a cosmic vessel went bust and bled light to no end.

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Kite

Posted on June 26, 2018 by John Biscello

My desire to feel God is the same as the child’s dreamlipped desire to kiss the red kite bobbing and arcing far and away tethered to his wrist a wordless prayer given over to wind and sky.

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