Tag Archives: poem

Redemption Song

Posted on November 10, 2020 by John Biscello

“We are strangers and exiles here.  I feel it now more certainly than ever—and the only home a man ever has on earth, the only moment when he escapes from the prisms of loneliness, is when he enters into the … Continue reading →

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Impossible You Say?

Posted on November 10, 2020 by John Biscello

“Literature is an exaggeration, a dramatization, and those who are nourished on it (as I was) are in great danger of trying to approximate an impossible rhythm.”—Anais Nin Leave the impossible to the fishes and the stars, to packed suitcases … Continue reading →

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Hunger

Posted on November 10, 2020 by John Biscello

“Writers do not live one life, they live two. There is the living and then there is the writing. There is the second tasting, the delayed reaction.” How many, committed to their record of days upon the earth, crusade with … Continue reading →

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Autumn

Posted on November 9, 2020 by John Biscello

I close my eyes and I see her again, a silhouette, near to distance, and dissolving– the autumn rain taps its seminal code for longing onto the trembling glass of a window closed.

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The Last Days of Jack Kerouac, a film-poem

Posted on November 5, 2020 by John Biscello

1. Setting: A waterfront saloon. The wooden floor thatched in dull golden sawdust plus the acrid scent of piss wafting in from the urinal. 2. Cut to: A broad-shouldered man slumped on his barstool. The camera notices that the legs … Continue reading →

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The Other Election, or, If Prince Were President

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

On this day I have cast my vote in electing my soul now and again to serve as my guide, compass, captain and architect in getting through this thing called life, electric word life meaning forever, according to Prince’s prophetic … Continue reading →

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Dreamlife for the Living

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

It is really just one long dream interrupted in thorny intervals by fictions that we mistake for realities, the single white feather floating like a tangible sliver of breath on the river’s cyclical surface tells you all you need to … Continue reading →

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Bliss-Following and Fool’s Play

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

To follow your bliss you must kiss your demons squarely on their mouths lancing their sealed lips with a flaming tongue perpetrating tango between worlds where love consumes every last thorny bit.

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Backroads

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

Traveling mapless backroads, I found heaven looking for me.

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Conscripture

Posted on November 3, 2020 by John Biscello

It is not me you are looking for, it is you. We dress and undress as mirrors, conscripting images to burn and cherish, to reveal and reflect the many sides of a lighted front, a sideways turn, modeling love in … Continue reading →

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