Tag Archives: Heaven

Round Trip

Posted on September 14, 2022 by John Biscello

There is a slow lasting burn on the road to heaven which admits meekness as a course of rightful inheritance, as a ringed torch song for reentry into the self dispossessed.

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Newsflash

Posted on August 11, 2022 by John Biscello

Heaven commits the meek to memory. Amnesia forgets itself to leaven the uninhibited rise of days lusting after dreams this side up.

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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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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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