Tag Archives: writing life
Third person, first, first person, last, it’s time he and I met for real. Advertisements
Your soul’s country is much bigger than you think. Find every last you there.
Slow kind of winter, Spring, mainlining taproot juice, hastens light to mold.
It is that mouth, pursed, sentencing savor to burn, to kiss, between lines.
(Excerpt from Raking the Dust) Seven years later, reflecting upon an analytical snapshot held up to the light: Thirty-three, unemployed, a boatload of debt, drinking excessively, divorcee, amateur plumber of shit-clogged pipe dreams—when I got my head stuck up my … Continue reading
(Excerpt from Raking the Dust) I see you decided to join me. I didn’t want you to drink alone. We sat at an empty table flanking the wall. The band was now playing a mournful ballad. Something about two lovers … Continue reading
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
Large cats stalk authors, same as authors prey to fast– Hunger, in plain sight.
Grateful for Ashleigh Grycner’s review of Raking the Dust, which appears in the latest installment of Riot Material, and coincides with RTD’s April 3rd relaunch. Raking the Dust, John Biscello’s masterful second novel, is first and foremost a novel about second … Continue reading
Not burning, not siege, not flood, not cold front, not atomic scourge, can destroy the Word, a lasting first, and inviolable measure, voiced to raise itself eternally anew.