Tag Archives: Heaven

Could Be Heaven

Posted on November 18, 2020 by John Biscello

No sin of which to speak, always beginnings, rogue, feral, growing wild among the greenest seasons of fire and becoming, or, siring the form of a dancer dancing in the clouds, lightning at her feet, as the rain begins to … Continue reading →

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Backroads

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

Traveling mapless backroads, I found heaven looking for me.

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Send to Returner

Posted on October 29, 2020 by John Biscello

At the edge of a weathered postcard, the faintest glisten, by which memory holds true and offers proof—There were people, a trip, a sea, clouds, fragile patterns, mist.  There was this life, where we dreamed, and so this postcard, this … 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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This Side of Paradise

Posted on April 30, 2019 by John Biscello

Marshaling heaven the keys to the kingdom find writers typing.  

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Ooooh, Ahhhh

Posted on April 14, 2019 by John Biscello

The umbilical cable arrived from heaven to bait and hook the grateful mortal who sacrificed his head (and the dead weight of its trivial contents masquerading as profound or important) to become a supple visual vowel with no more ties … Continue reading →

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Distance

Posted on December 12, 2018 by John Biscello

 People have called it the glow, the click, the hum, and for every abnormal drinker, for every addict, you are willing trade in everything for what amounts to a rigged facsimile of eternity. It is the sort of false eternity … Continue reading →

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The Gospel According to Ice Cream

Posted on June 25, 2018 by John Biscello

Perfection, this life’s greatest untruth and maligner, see how ice cream summer-melts and runs like happy magma down the ridged wonders of a waffle cone clutched by a child like an edible prayer destined to disappear, one bite at a … Continue reading →

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Fly Now, Pray Later

Posted on May 29, 2018 by John Biscello

For a subliminal time only it’s here Neverland’s lucid New Romanticism replete with pricks, needles and pines bespeaking Pagan Renaissance Nouveau a movement that will start in your vowels and end in your Oh’s especially suggested for those soft in … Continue reading →

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Shift

Posted on May 20, 2018 by John Biscello

I used to wreck on a regular basis. Going off the rails was my subversive way of keeping things under control. Illusions and mirages astonished me, still do. Something, anything, to hold on to was my gutted mantra, hollowed out … Continue reading →

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