Tag Archives: John Biscello

Performance

Posted on December 4, 2020 by John Biscello

Guttural streams of dream-rock in an amphitheater for the five senses and beyond– Here, at the liminal edges, you will find fire-kissed wildflowers applauding the performance by opening their volumeless mouths wide and swallowing whole the cathedral of sound, in … Continue reading →

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Peony

Posted on December 4, 2020 by John Biscello

This peony is an empty house/ In which each of us recaptures night. —Jean Laroche In the panting still of night, a peony, trembling, fragrant, blushing bright against the dark matted vines of memory, in which lovers, tangled and throbbing, … Continue reading →

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The Whisperers

Posted on December 3, 2020 by John Biscello

Nothing frightens a man firmly ensconced in false power more than a whisper. Volume, shouting, roaring, these reside within his comfort zone of conflict, but a marvelous whisper, connected to the unseen river of sound where many whisperers are called … Continue reading →

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It Begins With A Whisper

Posted on December 3, 2020 by John Biscello

In a world of far too many assassins, conducting strikes, consciously or un, on souls and their tenderest wilds, we need more whisperers, those miming the cursive gist of stars, willing to rise up in choir and share the stories … Continue reading →

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Housewarming

Posted on December 1, 2020 by John Biscello

“The already human being in whom I had sought shelter for my body yielded nothing to the storm. The house clung close to me, like a she-wolf, and at times, I could smell her odor penetrating maternally to my very … Continue reading →

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Sanctuary

Posted on December 1, 2020 by John Biscello

“It is on the plane of the daydream and not on that of facts that childhood remains alive and poetically useful within us. Through this permanent childhood, we maintain the poetry of the past. To inhabit oneirically the house we … Continue reading →

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Tongues

Posted on December 1, 2020 by John Biscello

“To meditative minds the ineffable is cryptic, inarticulate: dots, marks of secret meaning, scattered hints, to be gathered, deciphered and formed into evidence; while in moments of insight the ineffable is a metaphor in a forgotten mother tongue.” — Abraham … Continue reading →

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Slow Burn

Posted on December 1, 2020 by John Biscello

“He who has realized that sun and stars and souls do not ramble in a vacuum will keep his heart in readiness for the hour when the world is entranced.” — Abraham Joshua Heschel, I Asked for Wonder With or … Continue reading →

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The Choice is Yours, or, Ch-Ch-Changes

Posted on November 30, 2020 by John Biscello

Make no mistake about it— We are, collectively, at a crossroads, one which clearly, sharply, and without suffering lightly any more of the same ol same ol bullshit is asking us as individuals— Are you going to remain in blame, … Continue reading →

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As Fate Would Have It

Posted on November 30, 2020 by John Biscello

“Fate will have it—and this has always been the case with me—that all the ‘outer’ aspects of my life should be accidental. Only what is interior has proved to have substance and a determining value.” — Carl Jung He knew … Continue reading →

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