Category Archives: Artwork

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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God’s Word Against Mine

Posted on January 24, 2022 by John Biscello

And on the eighth day she was diagnosed an Artist, and saw that it was good and fierce and necessary, and went forth creating like a madwoman, rattling gravity shackles to the din of furor and crumbling towers within. (Poem … Continue reading →

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Immigration Laws

Posted on January 21, 2022 by John Biscello

We areimmigrants in our own skin,flash-fire refugeeswho get by with falsified papers,fake IDs, and forged signatures.If caught and found guiltyof a trespassor transgression,we pardon ourselvesin our native tongues,language a placeholderfor the nameswe were forcedto annul. (Poem from the collection, Arclight.)

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Claim for the Meek

Posted on January 19, 2022 by John Biscello

I do not want to see the face of God. I want to see her mask, where and for whom it cracked, the causal history of lines and fissures; want to trace, with blind mute innocence, the light quartered and … Continue reading →

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This Dreamed Life

Posted on December 22, 2021 by John Biscello

Remember me to the ease of light, its pause and passage, we are not long for this earth, which swallows us, and our lovetagged bones, as a matter of natural course and radical recomposition, all the gifts, and hopes unwound … Continue reading →

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