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Meta
Tag Archives: play
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
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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
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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
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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
In Love and War
(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.) I dumped all my G.I. Joes out of the shopping bag and onto the pavement of the driveway. I separated the good guys from the bad guys, and then arranged them in specific positions. … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged action figures, anya, Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, daniel, G.I. Joe, John Biscello, no man's brooklyn, novel, play, Prose, toys
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Burn While Reading
Touch, how her body becomes a pulsing slate of Braille, your fingers, unfinished, running on
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged body, Braille, erotic, John Biscello, kiss, love, lust, play, poem, sensual
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