Tag Archives: Poetry

Walkabout

Posted on November 13, 2020 by John Biscello

“My whole life has been little else than a long reverie divided into chapters by my daily walks”–Jean-Jacques Rousseau To ground, daily, these dreams of novel origins, bracing bold contact with rounded edges, off which falling is favored and soundly … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Storm Front

Posted on November 13, 2020 by John Biscello

“I think we are climates above which pause threats of storms that take place elsewhere.”—Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet What then, this weather of strange balloons and vanities engorged like blowfish bladders purpling to the point of bursting? Who, … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Chekhov and the Cat

Posted on November 13, 2020 by John Biscello

“The longer a poem, the weaker the impression that it has been dictated from above: Heaven is not verbose.  The more you talk, the more you lie.”–Vera Pavlova When I am overly verbose, I am trying to convince myself, or … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Cracked Plate

Posted on November 12, 2020 by John Biscello

“Sometimes, though, the cracked plate has to be retained in the pantry, has to be kept in service as a household necessity.  It can never again be warmed on the stove nor shuffled with the other plates in the dishpan; … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Tale-Spin

Posted on November 12, 2020 by John Biscello

There’s something funny, and a little lonely, about being the idiot protagonist in the tales you endlessly narrate to yourself, as if you were somehow plagiarizing the stars to round out your silence with immaterial gains amounting to destiny, if … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

It’s A Moon Thing

Posted on November 11, 2020 by John Biscello

Here, then, is the poet’s most holy and vocational duty– to clarify, beyond the rabble and ill communication, something flowingly equivalent to the reflection of the moon on dark rippling waters, sated, briefly, in savvy communion with what lies beneath.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Words, Silence, Music

Posted on November 10, 2020 by John Biscello

“Therefore, speak, speak at any price, say no matter what, since all words have equal value and all say the same thing, all repeat tirelessly the same call for help.” — Samuel Beckett If we are to take Mister Beckett … Continue reading →

Posted in Cinema, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Paradox

Posted on November 9, 2020 by John Biscello

“If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?”– from The Torah Paradox is the umbrella blown inside out in stormy weather, as … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Burning Down the House

Posted on November 8, 2020 by John Biscello

Grateful to be a contributor to the recently released anthology: As the World Burns: Writers and Artists Reflect on a World Gone Mad (Indie Blue Publishing). The women who spearheaded this project continue to create platforms in the publishing world … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Books, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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 →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment