Tag Archives: writing

Memory Babe

Posted on March 12, 2017 by John Biscello

(In honor of Jack Kerouac’s birthday, March 12th, an excerpt from my Greyhound travelogue, “Stray Passages”)    I discovered Kerouac, by chance, when I was nineteen and as a wide-eyed babe greedily suckling Kerouac’s vision-engorged tit, that  which he had … Continue reading →

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Endanger

Posted on November 11, 2016 by John Biscello

In the Beginning, when all was scrim and nostalgia to be, there was the Word, a dark sensual organism prefiguring Symbol, and in the mouths of babes desperate to dream aloud and chasten their hunt for meaning, the Word became … Continue reading →

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Homecoming

Posted on November 8, 2016 by John Biscello

Listening to the dark for years on end, the slow and vested maturation of a writer’s craft and homecoming.  

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Fort

Posted on November 6, 2016 by John Biscello

It has become my last refuge, a solitary outpost upon which the broken bit of sun seared into my palm, mirroring stigmata, has given my name as refutable evidence and signature.

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Hale

Posted on October 20, 2016 by John Biscello

To sharpen one’s teeth against solvent pages and grated silence is the bite in the air the old poets crowed about, and the wind saliently scales, as if reverse were a condition and not Memory fasting into childhood’s hale.

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Yes

Posted on October 19, 2016 by John Biscello

It is those, in writing, who quietly almost sublimely say fuck you & yes while trafficking, with fierce row, in silence whom I most admire.

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