Michael Cisco

Ask anyone what that means, what it means to see a miracle, and they will say that it's something impossible, but they…

— Michael Cisco

“Echoing streets melt into dark autumn rooms—melt to black plastic bags inflated by the wind and spinning on playground blacktop like free-floating…

— Michael Cisco

“The sky all at once is overhead dim and grey, puzzle of blocks sprawl, their own horizon; the city looks like a…

— Michael Cisco

Poetry restores language by breaking it, and I think that much contemporary writing restores fantasy, as a genre of writing in contrast…

— Michael Cisco

“What it must feel like to lie back with cut wrists in a warm bath, a voluptuous dwindling feeling.”

— Michael Cisco

“Anyone could say that a miracle is something impossible, but they say it thoughtlessly, mindlessly, because most people have such weak imaginations…

— Michael Cisco

“My exuberance breaks things, breaks me. It marches me up to people and elicits from me declarations of love, if only to…

— Michael Cisco

“The wind seems to be blowing through the gaps in the conversation like the rushing of empty space.”

— Michael Cisco

Cadavers and spirits are human refuse, and they are absurdly difficult to dispose of properly. When someone dies, a small gang of…

— Michael Cisco

“There is no perfection but in chance”

— Michael Cisco

“She starkly sees her inanimate future blocked out before her right through to her own end—without him... ...and worst of all, she…

— Michael Cisco