Tag Archives: Prose

Jizo and the Lost Children

Posted on February 5, 2024 by John Biscello

They were everywhere in the woods. Clustered in hidden batches, concealed, unseen or barely peeking out from foliage or grass, the verdant estate of jizos, some whose faces had been worn away by the elements, others with shadows and hints … Continue reading →

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Cause of Light

Posted on February 4, 2024 by John Biscello

She stood at a distance, imagining her daughter there, playing. She saw how her daughter lit up with glee when she was near the sea, or scampering along the shoreline, collecting shells, poking holes in the mud with a stick, … Continue reading →

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Titanic

Posted on January 29, 2024 by John Biscello

A voyage into the time-haunted unknown, a love story casting two alone as wreckmates aboard a sinking ship in a salacious sea of bop consciousness.

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Lyric Alone

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

Mind over matter, and mind over matter dreaming, and this the lyrical alone, the magnificent hovel and shrine, what it means the lyrical alone sounding sublime, and solitude alone the shrine and hovel, o magnificent bastards of ghostlight, the tenderest … Continue reading →

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Melodrama

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

Let’s start with this photo, the comic melodrama in which you, perfectly staged, are wearing a blue pinafore dress, your dark hair gagged in pigtails, mouth heavily lipsticked, cheeks cherubically rouged, your eyes two burning ovals of abyss-pooling licorice, sweat … Continue reading →

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Cinema

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

If cinema is a tomb, then let us die watching. The angel over my shoulder is hunched, dark, morphing. None of us ever leave behind the dark of the theater. We are here, always. Sanctuary, haven, enclave, respite, sitting tight … Continue reading →

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Pandora

Posted on January 28, 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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Perfect Day

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

The weevils chewing through the walls and burrowing into the hollows. Rot sets in. Yet I wake up and the sun is a perfect circle, a ball of fire, a kissing fool’s star. I smile. To hell with the weevils. … Continue reading →

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Semen

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

Semen has flowed. The danger is past. This is an old proverb from a sunken country, one that no longer exists. This mother country with its many flaring mother tongues and tidals of flowing semen represents the Great Flood. Semen … Continue reading →

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Titanic

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

If there were two, then let us say there were two. The two danced on the time-haunted deck of the Titanic, they called it the Titanic because they understood the floor beneath their feet was not to be trusted, nor … Continue reading →

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