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Meta
Tag Archives: text
(sic)
She compiled what they called obscure texts into what was then labeled an obscure book. She was vilified. To be obscure, to be knowingly obscure, was, as they saw it, was a veiled threat to innocence and an assault … Continue reading
Room
She was an avid writer of obscure texts. Her obscure texts, which related to identity, language and alienation, rendered the topics as and through compound fractures. She adopted the brokenness and mirrored it obscurely in brokenness. Self/reflecting through heretical … Continue reading
Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized
Tagged death, fragment, identity, murder, New York, obscure, room, south korea, story, text, tragedy, voice, woman, writing
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Furies in Chaos
Candice Louisa Daquin’s insightful review of The Last Furies published in the November issue of Synchronized Chaos (an interdisciplinary journal of art, music, culture, science, and literature). Excerpt from the review: “Viola felt as if she were watching a scene … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video
Tagged american novel, book, canadian press, Cinema, conceptual, dreams, film, hybrid, Literary, new wave, nouvelle vague, novel, Review, Surrealism, synchronized chaos, text, Theater, vaudeville, words
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Review in the Compulsive Reader
Louis Greenstein’s review of The Last Furies appearing in the Compulsive Reader. Excerpt:“The Last Furies inhabits a shamanic, liminal world where fantasies, yearnings, and radio waves merge to reveal secrets of the universe and mysteries of the human consciousness. From … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video
Tagged canadian press, Cinema, conceptual, fiction, fifth novel, haunting, indie publisher, Literary, lyrical, multi-media, surreal, text, The Last Furies, Theater
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Seance
It was a time in her life when she was not there, not inside herself or her life. And she was pregnant. Pregnant by the wrong man, so many wrong turns and wrong men, and this one, a mislaid night … Continue reading
Mirror
She opened her stomach. I took out my lighter, produced a flame, and cast light into the darkness. I saw a single object, a mirror. A square mirror with a baroque metal exterior: cursive, elegant. I saw part of my … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged body, body art, fiction, interiority, Mirror, Prose, reflections, stomach, story, Surrealism, text
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Sideshow
Let me show you, she said. She proceeded to open her stomach, almost as if she were made from wood or metal, something not flesh, and it cleanly opened to reveal a dark chamber. I stood there, not sure what … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged attraction, body parts, fiction, gazing, interior, man, Prose, relations, sideshow, stomach, story, Surrealism, text, woman, words
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Last Furies: Now Available!
I am excited to share the news that my novel, The Last Furies, has officially been released, and is available in paperback, e-book and audio-book editions. The book has been published by Lost Telegram Press, an indie publisher based out of Ontario, … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video
Tagged american novel, canadian press, Cinema, conceptual, experimental, hybird, indie publishing, lost telegram press, multiform, novel, Publication, sept 14 2025, Surrealism, text, thesater, transgressive literature, vaudeville, words
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Less Said
I have no desire to sing tonight. This is the only line Samuel Beckett managed to write for a libretto which he abandoned. The smallest hours hold staggering volumes of silence.
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged libretto, opera, Poetry, Prose, samuel beckett, silence, text
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Miasma
I have mimicked many voices to track and capture my mother’s theriomorphic grief, therefore my own: history pared and blood-let outside of time. Inside time, once upon a time, my mother was, as she tells it, a terrified-out-of-her-mind seventeen-year-old, not … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged birth, birthing blues, connection, grief, hospital, human condition, mother, Poetry, Prose, son, text
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John Biscello 