Category Archives: Artwork

To No End

Posted on November 11, 2022 by John Biscello

Texts to be read aloud inside your head while no one is listening. This one of the directives we received. We also heard Your ears may start to burn as if a forest fire is burning inside your head a … Continue reading →

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All Fours

Posted on November 10, 2022 by John Biscello

We are out here on all fours panting in the sun the bleary merciless maraschino sun burning us. It has been a long while one of those spells that feels foreverish out here in these fields unseen dreaming of god … Continue reading →

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Void and Nil

Posted on May 23, 2022 by John Biscello

Evie laughed to herself. It was just acting. Then again, she often did have trouble determining where she ended and someone else began. She wasn’t sure if this was a side-effect to acting, or to existing. Or if there was … Continue reading →

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In Dreams Begin First Person

Posted on May 23, 2022 by John Biscello

I am running.It feels like I’ve been running for a long time.I want to turn around and look behind me but my neck is locked into place.So I can’t see who or what is chasing me, but I know it’s … Continue reading →

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Sea Change

Posted on May 19, 2022 by John Biscello

Excerpt from my novel, No One Dreams in Color. 1.    I was nineteen and lost when I first saw Wendigo. That was the year everything broke apart. In the center, and in other places too.    My mother died, … Continue reading →

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Cinema Scope

Posted on May 11, 2022 by John Biscello

A catalog of my film scripts, and accompanying loglines, listed on Stage 32.

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Nipples don’t Kill

Posted on May 8, 2022 by John Biscello

In the feral country of nipples,where she-wolves raisetheir pups to howl unashamedlyat the moon,many many men,unconsciously ensnaredin puritanical roots,fear, scorn and revilethe mystery of the female nipple,its organic promise of milk and eternitytoo vagrantly radiantfor many many men’s eyes to … Continue reading →

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The Source

Posted on May 8, 2022 by John Biscello

For mothers everywhere: Their hearts, registeredas infinite beacons,have gone gentlyand luminously into nightsnot so good and pitch-black, bravingflytrap folds and god-awful rowsto soothe, mend andrestore the bruised vitalsof daughters and sons;they go, infused with bright rage,green force driving homenocturnes and … Continue reading →

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Broken Land at Ten

Posted on May 3, 2022 by John Biscello

This month marks the ten-year anniversary of my novel: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale. I am feeling a bit sentimental about this ghostly noir tale, not only because it was the first time I experienced having a novel published (I … Continue reading →

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In Praise of Honey

Posted on March 10, 2022 by John Biscello

Spoken word track w/ Ben Wright on bass and Nirmalan Mayura on flute. Image by James McNeill Whistler.

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