Tag Archives: time

What We Talk About When We Talk About Time

Posted on December 19, 2025 by John Biscello

1.    The hem of her dress had caught his eye.    Yours was an eye waiting to be caught, she’d say, later, much later, a drizzle of girlishness in her voice.    The dress was a form-fitting red dress … Continue reading →

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Daybreak

Posted on November 30, 2025 by John Biscello

We forget vividly. Absence glares and ghosts inwardly, a brutal slate of charged pixels. We find ourselves shrinking and recoiling in the hospitable siege of light—projecting, wanting, myopic as the day is long. We question ourselves. We are changed. How? … Continue reading →

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Where the Sidewalk Ends

Posted on November 30, 2025 by John Biscello

To no longer have memory is to exist in a state of vulnerable grace. It is the tenuous grace of having to function in the immediate present, the source of our greatest agitation, without referential orientation to archived past or … Continue reading →

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Screen Test

Posted on November 21, 2025 by John Biscello

Memory. How we amass and compile what equates to an archival collection of footage which constitutes an identity, a life … in private screening rooms, we view ourselves, scenes, episodes, and settle ourselves into what comprises identity. Yet there is … Continue reading →

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Metrics

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

Dust is time’s response to dreaming. Dreams–desolate, unmade, spectral—wafting as winds carry out the ceremonial twitch of pallbearing.

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Last Picture Show

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

   Does time-resin sting our eyes? Does desolation call forth our most solitary angels? Our loneliest most homesick angels? Desolation allows to become a vagrant, rooted in blessed nobody, divergently attuned to an original script. The wind writes in the … Continue reading →

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Interior

Posted on November 20, 2025 by John Biscello

   It was a town caught in the pinwheeling stasis between living and dying, between chrysalis and mortuary. I want to examine why it is I am drawn to places like this, why I always return to this specific feeling … Continue reading →

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Mortuary

Posted on November 14, 2025 by John Biscello

Miko was a singer with her voice in the clouds. They called Miko blue. Occasionally, there would be flashes of red. In the fall, Miko would softly mimic the elegy of leaves and become yellow. She would, in voice and … Continue reading →

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Manna

Posted on October 14, 2025 by John Biscello

Do not say the thing that is easily said. Say the other, say the nothing, say the silence, say the unsayable, and save yourself (sort of) through the saying. Gold dust wafts down like filigreed motes from a rain-swollen ceiling. … Continue reading →

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Sepia

Posted on October 12, 2025 by John Biscello

Nostalgia is a death-trap, eating its own tail and leading nowhere. Nostalgia copulates with ghosts in dusty storage rooms and snakelike corridors. Now and again and again now never is nostalgia’s recipe and calling card. Nostalgia is the last picture … Continue reading →

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