Tag Archives: Literary

Wordprey

Posted on April 29, 2016 by John Biscello

Anais Nin, draped in a negligee of text– naked lunch break?

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Brood

Posted on April 29, 2016 by John Biscello

  At the wound’s core, dark luscious ravels of text, courting, inviolate measures, the fathomless brood of Beauty’s End.

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Preschool, a Love Story

Posted on April 29, 2016 by John Biscello

Jilly, aged three, bared her teeth & bit Jack, four, hard on the arm, breaking skin & drawing blood. Stunned, Jack’s baby blues ballooned & gaped at Jilly, bright with malice & glee. Why Jilly why, Jack cried, nursing his … Continue reading →

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Tangle

Posted on April 28, 2016 by John Biscello

Grief, a tangle of hidden hands emerging to bury you standing.

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Cleft

Posted on April 28, 2016 by John Biscello

Kiss, the clefting of vowels while she brings your mouth to praise.

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Bound

Posted on April 28, 2016 by John Biscello

Intimacy, the skeining of desire, bound by recourse.

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God’s Word Against Mine

Posted on April 27, 2016 by John Biscello

And on the eighth day she was diagnosed an Artist, and saw that it was good and fierce and necessary, and went forth creating like a madwoman, rattling gravity shackles to the din of furor and crumbling towers within.

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Running with the Bullshit

Posted on April 27, 2016 by John Biscello

Far end of the bar, drinkers with writing problems– It’s Hemingway’s fault.

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Faceblock

Posted on April 27, 2016 by John Biscello

Jack Kerouac scrolling his Facebook page– detours on the road.

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Yellow Over Blue

Posted on April 26, 2016 by John Biscello

Yellow is the saddest color, she said. Some think it is blue, but it is not. Blue is the common choice for the color of sad, the popular one, but yellow is much sadder than blue. Yellow blinds you with … Continue reading →

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