-
Archives
- August 2022
- July 2022
- June 2022
- May 2022
- April 2022
- March 2022
- January 2022
- December 2021
- November 2021
- October 2021
- September 2021
- August 2021
- July 2021
- June 2021
- May 2021
- April 2021
- March 2021
- February 2021
- January 2021
- December 2020
- November 2020
- October 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- March 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- December 2018
- November 2018
- October 2018
- September 2018
- August 2018
- July 2018
- June 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- February 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
-
Meta
Tag Archives: play
Window for Two
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
Sound and the Furies
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
Posted in Books, photography, Poetry, Prose
Tagged alchemy, arthur rimbaud, fifth novel, language, play, Poetry, Prose, remixology, sorcery, symbolist poetry
Leave a comment
Seeds
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
The Soldier
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
Posted in Books, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged all the last furies, arthur rimbaud, John Biscello, memory of fiction, novel, play, Prose, radio tuning, the inn, the raping
Leave a comment
Bike Rally
At childhood’s wild edge, play as the sacred totem– No license required.
Satyr
I found him, wanting, satyr’s swell of thorny play– fondling fresh, green grass.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged grass, haiku, John Biscello, lust, nature, pan, passion, play, Poetry, satyr, sesnsuality, throb
Leave a comment
Wonder
Each spring they return, bound to renew small wonders– Innocent by turns. (Artwork by Izumi Yokoyama)
Autobiography
To know myself, a rogue aggregate of loving atoms, a happy shivering clusterfuck of luminous baubles banded together to forge and assume an alleged identity, no papers or pulpit required, to fulfill an arc, and heart-guided directives, to be a … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged autobiography, badlands, desert, dream, God, I, identity, John Biscello, love, me, play, poem, Poetry, soul, spirit
6 Comments
Nursery
The nursery burned, as the children kept playing– Parents worlds away. (Artwork by Dorothea Tanning)
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Artwork, children spirit, destruction, dorothea tanning, haiku, John Biscello, love, nursery, painting, play, poem, surreal
Leave a comment
Hallway
This could be titled John Biscello Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, could be titled Romancing the Ghosts, or perhaps no title at all, just a flickering reminiscence trapped in a photo snapped by a childhood friend who swears that he occasionally … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged 1741, 62nd street, Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, childhood, friend, ghosts, hallway, house, John Biscello, memory, photo, play, poem, the past
1 Comment
John Biscello 