Category Archives: Poetry

Kerouac

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

Kerouac whizzed and hummed. He lived with smoldering zest a crumbling highway within. He took to this unlighted highway, equal parts tour guide and lost little lamb, nuzzling a candle, believing that even the littlest light would make him brave, … Continue reading →

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Marguerite Duras

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

Marguerite Duras crowed about nothing. And nothingness. Lyrics like so much silky water threaded in the raptures of an eddy. Whirling, heady, intoxicating, a dizzying effect that spoke sheerest volumes about the secret history of love. Love for M.D. was … Continue reading →

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Beckett

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

Samuel Beckett plunged his head so far up his ass, daylight became a dream and conundrum. He saw the world through shit-filtered glasses, the bluest of roses manure-caked, anal cavity functioning as the base of inspiration, as the grimy pulpit … Continue reading →

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No Dominion

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

Dark. Lights up. Piles of sand on stage. Reddish sand. In some areas, the sand is piled high, forming mini-dunes. In other areas, thin flat layers. Sticking out of the sand are shards of glass. A woman lying on stage … Continue reading →

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A Man Walks Into

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

A man walks into a man. He realizes it’s the same man … they’re … the same man. They merge. Naturally. Inviolably. A man walks into a man and a merger occurs. Who was I before I walked into myself? … Continue reading →

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Welcome to the Monkey House

Posted on October 24, 2024 by John Biscello

A man rattling the bars inside his cage that is the monkey house of writing and publishing, or, the holy seethe sounded in diminished chords and vinegar.

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Red Wedding Day

Posted on October 20, 2024 by John Biscello

Hey, little sister, what is it you wish? A nice day for a red wedding A nice day to start again.

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Through a Screen Darkly

Posted on October 15, 2024 by John Biscello

(A review of Lisa 2, v1.0, by Nicholas Rombes) It begins in an irremediable present-tense, a limbo of cirrus and gray, in which the voice of a man, functioning out of narrative necessity, becomes spectral detective to the story of … Continue reading →

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The Bride at Jean Cocteau

Posted on September 26, 2024 by John Biscello

Our experimental chamber film, The Bride, will have its Santa Fe debut, screening at the historic Jean Cocteau Cinema.

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Women Without Men

Posted on September 5, 2024 by John Biscello

They grew breasts beyond compare. They grew breasts because they had to. Flat-chested, they weren’t considered manly enough. Grow some breasts, the administrative contingent would say. Grow some breasts and then maybe you can join us on the battlefield. A … Continue reading →

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