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Tag Archives: writer
In the Catacombs of Grief
In the catacombs of grief, she wandered. She wandered, without thirst, without hunger. This frightened her. Had she lost her basic humanity? Why had she created such elaborate labyrinths? Say that ten times fast, she said to herself. At least … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged catacombs, creation, fragment, grief, labyrinth, moodspells, Prose, wandeirng woman, writer
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Giantess
Between bewildered, and the wildest seasons of time and longing, she derived dreamily the spatial pulse of God’s somnolent core.
Fleur de Lis
This world,beyond this world,splitting into festive atoms,called upon this woman,beyond this woman,to air with no discretionthe favored breathof blue rosesfalling.
Posted in photography, Poetry
Tagged blue roses, clarise lispector, mystery, poem, the writing life, writer
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Babytalk
(Story from Freeze Tag.) I had been dating Jeannie for two years and had been living with her for the past six months. We had a place on 31st Street between Madison & Park Avenues and we could afford it because, … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged babytalk, book, Brooklyn, Freeze Tag, John Biscello, mothers and daughters, New York, story, writer
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Jean Rhys
You held the islands in your eyes, where it rained and rained and then the sun warmed wet to a wafting hiss. This Jean, you, the feline slink, filigreed shock, and sinewy comb of whitelaced waves ruffling upon puttied blobs … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Beauty, grace, islands, Jean Rhys, John Biscello, literature, passion, poem, Poetry, sadness, sea, spirit, story, tribute, writer, writer's life
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Anais Nin
Invention was your solitude, your twin, wasn’t it, Miss Nin? The way you spread secret pages like silk violet capes, like fringed shawls, over an air of mystery, and err of desire. You enabled symmetry, to confess. Why couldn’t a … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
Tagged anais nin, Beauty, creative process, diary, dreams, invention, John Biscello, labyrinth, literature, poem, Poetry, tribute, woman, writer, writer's life
4 Comments
Henry Miller
Some men rattle their chains and wonder, some sing them. Then there are others who spraypaint their chains rainbow siege and dance a jig like a peacock on fire, and when someone asks Isn’t it hard to dance around with … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged Brooklyn, henry miller, John Biscello, literature, novelist, Poetry, portrait, prophet, prose poem, spirit, surrealist, tribute, writer, writer's life
23 Comments
John Fante
Inferiority might have been your first memory. Though you were born on American soil, Denver, CO, April 8th, 1909, the chinked chains of immigration had you by the throat and bowels, pinched your nerves as you butted your head against … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged april 8th, arturo bandini, ask the dust, Italian-American, John Biscello, john fante, literature, los angeles, novel, novelist, poem, portrait, prose poem, tribute, writer
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Jean Rhys at Twilight
Nutrition fact: Did you know that windows like to eat writers who diet on silence and dust-motes, they swallow the writers whole, or in fragments, devouring them slowly, ever so slowly, until all that remains is a ghost, where a … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dreams, ghosts, haunt, Jean Rhys, John Biscello, nutrition, poem, Poetry, silence, twilight, window, writer, writing life
5 Comments
Marguerite Duras
Mapped, in glaring veins, cut, to secrete lucid text– Yes, love, I bleed light.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged author, blood, french, haiku, John Biscello, Light, lover, map, marguerite duras, poem, the lover, writer, writign life
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John Biscello 