Tag Archives: Literary

Isn’t it Romantic?

Posted on June 5, 2016 by John Biscello

Baby Byron didn’t yet have language, so he twisted and contorted his face into a mask, a distressed aria sounding his discomfort. That it was existential, and not hunger, thirst, tiredness, or physical pain, meant nothing to him. Without language … Continue reading →

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Peter Parker’s Blues

Posted on June 3, 2016 by John Biscello

As a kid I wanted to be you. Swinging, from building to building, across the cityscape, sticking to walls with velcroed hands and feet, no fear of falling, no Icarus complex crippling your confidence in upward mobility.

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Interview on the Last Word

Posted on June 2, 2016 by John Biscello

I will be a guest on Wednesday, June 8th at 4pm (Mountain Time) on the public radio program: The Last Word, Conversations with Writers. The show will be aired locally in Santa Fe on 101.1 FM, and can be streamed … Continue reading →

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We’ll Always Have Paris

Posted on May 29, 2016 by John Biscello

A review of Paula McLain’s The Paris Wife. Hemingway’s classic, A Moveable Feast, is a well-stewed blend of contradictions, much like the man himself. It is a crucible of a valentine, wrapped in vellum and barbed wire. Notorious for holding … Continue reading →

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Tunnel

Posted on May 29, 2016 by John Biscello

Consider the mole, a small important god, unfettered by dreams of flight or fugitive arcs, gathering briskly the dark into its labor, leveling a dig to assume no chances or saviors

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Reading/Book-signing at Bookworks

Posted on May 26, 2016 by John Biscello

I will be having a reading/book-signing for my new novel Raking the Dust (Thursday, June 23rd) at Bookworks in Albuquerque. Info here.    

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Out of Blue

Posted on May 26, 2016 by John Biscello

It’s in the eyes. A hard crystal blue, lovely and liquid, charged by a hidden fever wired to the source and its tangled roots. Ancient autumn tree stripped of its skin, nesting psychic lesions that no one can see; at … Continue reading →

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road trip w/ cocorosie

Posted on May 25, 2016 by John Biscello

two sisters, sawed in half at birth, dys membered family roots splintered, offshooting scraps, tatters, shotgun hobbyhorses cruising high noons in dada’s sedan, desert sun bleeding maraschino, while the sisters suctioned to red backseat vinyl, swill acid lemonade from styrofoam … Continue reading →

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Woman Draped in Yellow

Posted on May 24, 2016 by John Biscello

In a state of honeyed repose, her flightless body, a constellation, draped in the sheer cloth of sunlight, as she models hidden grief to witnesses unseen by common sight.

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Slipknot

Posted on May 23, 2016 by John Biscello

She, falling through a slipknot cinched by Grief’s hard hands; He, minding gravity, set a course for two, at dawn’s first light.

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