Tag Archives: literature

Flint

Posted on November 30, 2025 by John Biscello

   I came across what was no longer there, and thought—Burning books isn’t so terrible. What is a far worse fate for books, what really transforms them into grave casualties: apathy.    Indifference and neglect of books is a much … Continue reading →

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Moratorium

Posted on September 17, 2025 by John Biscello

I. Beckett spoke about it: the inability to keep quiet. The incapacity to not say stories, not write stories, not place oneself inside stories in which you make and unmake and remake yourself endlessly, an orgy of particles constellating jittery … Continue reading →

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Bolano and Me

Posted on March 26, 2025 by John Biscello

Last night I dreamed of Roberto Bolaño. Or he of me. We were sitting at a dimly lit café, a subterranean plot of a café, and Bolaño was drinking chamomile tea. In the latter stages of his life chamomile tea … Continue reading →

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Homage to John Fante

Posted on April 5, 2022 by John Biscello
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Claim for the Meek

Posted on January 19, 2022 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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Word-Pray

Posted on June 5, 2020 by John Biscello

Please understand that words matter. This, in no way is meant to belittle, diminish or dismiss the power of action, but rather, to add “words” to the conversation as a sort of auxiliary spiritual sibling, or bolts in a timeless … Continue reading →

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Jean Rhys

Posted on April 22, 2018 by John Biscello

You held the islands in your eyes, where it rained and rained and then the sun warmed wet to a wafting hiss. This Jean, you, the feline slink, filigreed shock, and sinewy comb of whitelaced waves ruffling upon puttied blobs … Continue reading →

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Anais Nin

Posted on April 19, 2018 by John Biscello

Invention was your solitude, your twin, wasn’t it, Miss Nin? The way you spread secret pages like silk violet capes, like fringed shawls, over an air of mystery, and err of desire. You enabled symmetry, to confess. Why couldn’t a … Continue reading →

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Henry Miller

Posted on April 18, 2018 by John Biscello

Some men rattle their chains and wonder, some sing them. Then there are others who spraypaint their chains rainbow siege and dance a jig like a peacock on fire, and when someone asks Isn’t it hard to dance around with … Continue reading →

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John Fante

Posted on April 8, 2018 by John Biscello

Inferiority might have been your first memory. Though you were born on American soil, Denver, CO, April 8th, 1909, the chinked chains of immigration had you by the throat and bowels, pinched your nerves as you butted your head against … Continue reading →

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