Tag Archives: passion

Cherish

Posted on February 23, 2018 by John Biscello

This side of dream, to marvel in sheer trespass and longing, to engage the mystery and riot of skin, by touch and flagrant cherish.

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First Time, Forever

Posted on February 23, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.)    What are we gonna do with ourselves Daniel?    Like right now?    Like ever. Are you gonna go to college?    I don’t know, but I don’t think so.    Why you’re smart? … Continue reading →

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First Steps

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

It is not about holding her perfect, just so, in a prescribed manner, but rather, can you slowpour your breath into one another’s hips and clefts, while swaying? It is the mutual pressing of scars together, a controlled friction that … Continue reading →

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Scripture

Posted on February 19, 2018 by John Biscello

To be swallowed, wordless, as the worst you always feared turns lighted proof into lasting scripture.

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Breathing Lessons

Posted on February 18, 2018 by John Biscello

   One night Anya and I were hanging out in my living room. My father was in Atlantic City. My mother was dead. Had been for almost three years at that point.    Anya and I had the place to … Continue reading →

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Born in Translation

Posted on January 26, 2018 by John Biscello

I sometimes think of writing as the vocational practice of learning to translate, with accuracy of spirit, the parts of me, unrecognized, unseen, unsigned, that echo from an intimately faraway hollow of interior space.  

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Wellspring

Posted on January 10, 2018 by John Biscello

Through the grace of repetition, the writing life grounded in the slow, wistful measures of wellspring’s fortune.

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Young Forever

Posted on January 7, 2018 by John Biscello

Anya and I had almost three weeks. The flirt and tease of a young forever. It felt good to be with Anya in this new way. We were no longer ourselves, we were ourselves as a couple, this third and … Continue reading →

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Quest

Posted on January 3, 2018 by John Biscello

One thing we cannot recover is time. And perhaps every writer, as a fugitive stalker, as a fool-hero on a desperate quest, sets himself this glorious, impossible task, the solvent recovery of time through the mortal fetters of a merciful … Continue reading →

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Savor

Posted on January 2, 2018 by John Biscello

I was young, fevered and full of hope. My heart, green in its country, desired to push lightning through blooms, to cherish brightly in a thousand different directions at once. It was and always has been about rounding dreams from … Continue reading →

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