Tag Archives: travel

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 →

Posted in Artwork, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Way Station

Posted on October 11, 2025 by John Biscello

I walked to the train station at night. I was going to drive. It was a hot day, I had already been out walking in the sun, and I thought—just drive to the train station. But when it was time … Continue reading →

Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Of Place and Haunt

Posted on October 11, 2025 by John Biscello

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

Posted in Artwork, photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Beckett’s Sonata

Posted on March 31, 2025 by John Biscello

A hatless pilgrim, roving this way and that, a man embodying scat (in every sense of the word), wandering through starched cardstock fields in search of a stingy flower, proud, pistil-engraved, the flower’s gullet scorched by streaks of sungold (this, … Continue reading →

Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose, Theater | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Without Proper Guidance

Posted on November 17, 2024 by John Biscello

They had me in a corner and ganged up on me. A team of guidance counselors wearing black turtlenecks, black Dickies, black wingtips, wristwatches, and spotlessly clean spectacles. Their voices harmonized in a harsh baritone chorus: Biscello (ohhhh…ohhhhh…sounded the echo)—what … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Veils

Posted on November 12, 2024 by John Biscello

Invention was your solitude and twin, wasn’t it, Miss Nin? The calculated manner in which you spread secret pages, like silk violet capes or fringed shawls, promising an air of mystery and desire. You enabled the cause of symmetry, so … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

We Pause for Glacial Identification

Posted on November 10, 2024 by John Biscello

It is the winter within, the writer dying, the chaos bible scored in ice, texts of veins, I mean, I think I mean, veins of text, veins and bulging whorls of text embedded in ice, and your body moving through … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Green Dark

Posted on February 8, 2024 by John Biscello

We enter forests at the liminal risk of time lost to the vagrancies of dreaming and silence of choir— Engendered by echoes and bated tense we move on at the mercy of mirrorless haunt.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Footnotes

Posted on February 7, 2024 by John Biscello

Streets, vivid in character, and seeded in the calming lore of desolation and subtext, train the wanderer’s interest to stop, notice, gaze deeply at or into causes warming us to the effects through which we marvel, lost, at curiously intimate … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Time, Travel

Posted on February 7, 2024 by John Biscello

The boy sat on the train that would take him to the station where he would catch the train that would take him to the airport where he would be lifted away from everything he had been dreaming in real-time. … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment