Tag Archives: play

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 →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged correspondences, craft, edges, jazz, play, Poetry, Prose, resonance, subjectivity, word | Leave a comment

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 →

Posted in Poetry, Prose, Theater | Tagged duet, intimacy, love, more words, play, voices, window, words | Leave a comment

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 →

Posted in Books, photography, Poetry, Prose | Tagged alchemy, arthur rimbaud, fifth novel, language, play, Poetry, Prose, remixology, sorcery, symbolist poetry | Leave a comment

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 →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged grace, John Biscello, monk, play, Poetry, seeds, watermelon | Leave a comment

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 →

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

Posted on November 30, 2018 by John Biscello

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

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged I want to ride my bicycle i want to ride my bike, John Biscello, play, poem, the wheel deal | Leave a comment

Satyr

Posted on April 19, 2018 by John Biscello

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

Posted on March 25, 2018 by John Biscello

Each spring they return, bound to renew small wonders– Innocent by turns. (Artwork by Izumi Yokoyama)

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged Artwork, children, fable, forest, ghosts, haiku, izumi yokoyama, John Biscello, jump rope, play, poem, spring, tree | 1 Comment

Autobiography

Posted on March 25, 2018 by John Biscello

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

Posted on March 19, 2018 by John Biscello

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