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Meta
Tag Archives: sorcery
Sound and the Furies
My novel, The Last Furies, was partly inspired by the life, legend and poetic reckoning of the Symbolist brat-prince, Arthur Rimbaud. As a hybrid work, that is both an endless remix of a novel and a sorcerer’s cryptic handbook, the … Continue reading
Posted in Books, photography, Poetry, Prose
Tagged alchemy, arthur rimbaud, fifth novel, language, play, Poetry, Prose, remixology, sorcery, symbolist poetry
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Storm Front
“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 book of disquiet, fernando pessoa, John Biscello, Poetry, Prose, sorcery, storm, weather
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Sorcerer’s Apprentice
Breathing in, this holy seethe, an etheric reflux of fierce fire and starlight, which has kept me in tow and fasting thrall to my dreams for as long as I can remember. When I was a budding young sorcerer, new … Continue reading
Sylvia Plath
To be a mother, and to double as a dark sorceress, a cleaver of dried bones, could not have been easy. Especially in the 1950s. They burned witches then, as well as reds and blacks and faggots, and other things … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged John Biscello, poet, Poetry, sorcery, Sylvia Plath, The 50s, witch's brew
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From the Sorcerer’s Handbook
Do not explain music Do not explain dreams the elusive penetrates everything You must know that everything rhymes —Wols There is something deeply comforting about this, deeply reassuring. Everything rhymes. A universe of correspondences, of sequential richness, metaphysical jazz. … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged alchemy, John Biscello, poesy, rhyme-scheme, sorcery, turning prose to jazz soup, universal musings, why not?
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Sorcery
The false portal, merely window dressing, appeared in retrospect, long after the floating disc of arclight had guided her past the wraith, and teeth of smoke, a daring exit into fathomless depths.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged butoh, dark, John Biscello, Light, magic, poem, Poetry, recovery, ritual, sorcery
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