Tag Archives: Poetry

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 →

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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.

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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 →

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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 →

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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 →

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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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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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Wonder

Posted on October 29, 2020 by John Biscello

Ask a child, any child, what the difference is between Monday and Thursday? No matter how they respond, look them in the eyes and tell them how wonderful they are.

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Seeds

Posted on October 28, 2020 by John Biscello

The other day I met a monk who juggled watermelon seeds with his tongue. When I asked him how he did it, he spit the seeds at me, a staccato stream of seeds as if the monk were no monk … Continue reading →

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