Tag Archives: New York

A Moveable Feast

Posted on December 12, 2025 by John Biscello

   The first time I saw Hemingway he was seated at a table on his terrace overlooking the train station. It was raining that day and I was waiting on the platform opposite the terrace. I chanced to look up … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Last Word podcast

Posted on December 11, 2025 by John Biscello

“Fascinating insights into the ‘storied and wild mind’ of author, playwright, poet and performer John Biscello with his latest book The Last Furies. Our far-ranging conversation takes us from his home in the “grunge-wonderland” of Taos to lands of fables … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

City Lights

Posted on December 11, 2025 by John Biscello

   There’s something wrong with him, my father said. Look at him. Something’s not right. Something’s happened to him. He’s sick. All he thinks about is writing. That’s all he thinks about. He is blue.    Even though I wasn’t … Continue reading →

Posted in Cinema, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Last Word

Posted on December 9, 2025 by John Biscello

It was a treat getting to chat with Carly Newfeld on the Last Word podcast (KSFR, Santa Fe Public Radio), as we talked about wild mind, inspiration, the richness of solitude and silence, and my new novel, The Last Furies, … Continue reading →

Posted in Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Room

Posted on December 2, 2025 by John Biscello

   She was an avid writer of obscure texts. Her obscure texts, which related to identity, language and alienation, rendered the topics as and through compound fractures. She adopted the brokenness and mirrored it obscurely in brokenness. Self/reflecting through heretical … Continue reading →

Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Body Double

Posted on January 17, 2025 by John Biscello

It would be the last time, the last thinning whatever that gave night its fool’s edge and lyrical tilt— Scraping half-moon fingernails against famished odds, he briefly paused to consider the bottomless gorge of a hungry ghost demanding of its … Continue reading →

Posted in photography, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Odds

Posted on January 17, 2025 by John Biscello

He had searched high and low, mostly low, but he knew his fate, rigged to electrical impulses and happenstance, waited somewhere between a wrong number and an empty glass. He squeezed the lucky rabbit foot in his pocket, a prayer, … Continue reading →

Posted in photography, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Vertical

Posted on January 17, 2025 by John Biscello

One of those lighted windows would change his life forever— It was matter of calculated ascent, and guessing right for once.

Posted in photography, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

New York Story

Posted on November 19, 2024 by John Biscello

When the bird hit me in the side of head, I had no idea what had happened. It felt like someone had blindsided me with a loaded handbag. I clutched at air and went down immediately. I didn’t feel any … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

How Tomorrow Moves

Posted on November 11, 2024 by John Biscello

   It was a matter of helium-speak, and tomorrow-talk, and bright ribbons of noise amounting to nothing.    We, hanging out on the street-corner, conducting ping-pong volleys and raps, ferocity and verve, building ourselves up—who we were and were not, … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose, photography | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment