Tag Archives: play

Review of The Last Furies

Posted on August 29, 2025 by John Biscello

Thank you, Louis Greenstein, for the thoughtful advance review of my forthcoming novel, The Last Furies (Lost Telegram Press). Full review below: John Biscello’s astonishing work, The Last Furies, is a vaudeville routine wrapped around a radio drama, tucked into … 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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Slide

Posted on October 10, 2023 by John Biscello

Unless you are converted and become as little children sliding down a blue slide while the living and dead co-exist side by side as playmates in a prayer-kind spectrum of transient passage your heaven will remain a seriously twisted topic … Continue reading →

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Near to Edges

Posted on October 17, 2022 by John Biscello

Words meant to be read aloud inside your head. A paradox yes but true. To be read aloud inside your head could be the preface the header the suggestion accompanying the texts. In this respect you may hear the music. … Continue reading →

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Window for Two

Posted on August 9, 2022 by John Biscello

Do you plan to get up today Max? No Marge, you? I am up. You plan on staying up? No, just wanted a spot of tea. That’s very British of you. What is? A spot of tea . . . … Continue reading →

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Sound and the Furies

Posted on May 20, 2022 by John Biscello

My novel, The Last Furies, was partly inspired by the life, legend and poetic reckoning of the Symbolist brat-prince, Arthur Rimbaud. As a hybrid work, that is both an endless remix of a novel and a sorcerer’s cryptic handbook, the … Continue reading →

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Seeds

Posted on October 28, 2020 by John Biscello

The other day I met a monk who juggled watermelon seeds with his tongue. When I asked him how he did it, he spit the seeds at me, a staccato stream of seeds as if the monk were no monk … Continue reading →

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The Soldier

Posted on March 19, 2020 by John Biscello

Excerpt from All the Last Furies. He swept me into the storage room of the inn. Baited me with the promise of candy. Something so simple, and yet candy might be the ultimate siren for children, its lure a golden … Continue reading →

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Bike Rally

Posted on November 30, 2018 by John Biscello

At childhood’s wild edge, play as the sacred totem– No license required.

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Satyr

Posted on April 19, 2018 by John Biscello

I found him, wanting, satyr’s swell of thorny play– fondling fresh, green grass.

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