Tag Archives: musing

A Man Walks Into

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

A man walks into a man. He realizes it’s the same man … they’re … the same man. They merge. Naturally. Inviolably. A man walks into a man and a merger occurs. Who was I before I walked into myself? … Continue reading →

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Notes in Passing

Posted on February 28, 2024 by John Biscello

The old man in the blue hat, short-sleeve white shirt, gray pants, blue sneakers, seated on a canvas folding chair staked on a plot of grass, the old man’s elected vantage point from which to enjoy his beer and watch … Continue reading →

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Blue

Posted on February 22, 2024 by John Biscello

I knew this. Even before I met her, I knew this. But she, as an explicit confirmation, as a caretaker and symbiotic mouthpiece to my unsaid secrets, said, and so concisely—Dreams come out of the blue, returning to the blue. … Continue reading →

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Gilead After Dark

Posted on February 22, 2024 by John Biscello

Time dreamed, and I was there. The persistently nagging sense of simultaneously being there and not being there. A fusion and mediation of allegedly separate entities, such as timelines, distances (intimacy, you see, belong to the immeasurable). The mantling of … Continue reading →

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Pandora

Posted on February 21, 2024 by John Biscello

I won’t call this a book because no one reads books anymore, no one gives two shits and a dime about books. I’ll call this an exalted and long overdue mania, a catalytic inversion, a freebase purge. Whatever, whatever. Voyeurs … Continue reading →

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Station

Posted on February 21, 2024 by John Biscello

Historyless is where I come from, the sun-crotched navel, the part of me not yet born, the part of me dead to the world on its way to being born into the potholes and foothills of unimagined fictions. That, plus … Continue reading →

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Andrea Doria

Posted on February 21, 2024 by John Biscello

Itchy navels, persecutions, manias, projections, snot-rimmed abysses, it’s been a mixed bag of plenty and none, and here I sit with the day’s teeth growing long and chomping down with razor-edged intensity … the stringent air of day after days … Continue reading →

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Ark

Posted on February 20, 2024 by John Biscello

Semen has flowed. The danger is past. This is an old proverb from a sunken country, a made-up country, a country that no longer exists or never did. This mother country with its many flaring mother tongues and tidals of … Continue reading →

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Comeback

Posted on January 14, 2024 by John Biscello

Pretend to be dead at your own funeral. Bask in the unparalleled theater of your ending. When the audience leaves, stop pretending. Plan a comeback, understanding that previous perceptions will be dismissed, and the cast of characters, including you, will … Continue reading →

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End of Days

Posted on January 14, 2024 by John Biscello

Name your child End of Days. When your child is throwing a tantrum, say—End of Days, I need you to stop this instant. When your child goes to sleep at night, tell them—Sweet dreams, End of Days, I love you. … Continue reading →

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