Tag Archives: Poetry

The Trial

Posted on November 12, 2024 by John Biscello

Enlightened, perhaps. God-engorged hormones, maybe. Regardless of why, Joan, you were the rebel prototype long before James Dean zipped up a red jacket, or Marlon Brando mumbled and curled his upperlip into a stylized totem. Before Louise Brooks and Josephine … Continue reading →

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Veils

Posted on November 12, 2024 by John Biscello

Invention was your solitude and twin, wasn’t it, Miss Nin? The calculated manner in which you spread secret pages, like silk violet capes or fringed shawls, promising an air of mystery and desire. You enabled the cause of symmetry, so … Continue reading →

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Fante and Bandini

Posted on November 12, 2024 by John Biscello

Inferiority might have been your first memory. Though you were born on American soil, stubbornly planted there, the chinked chains of immigration clanked and rattled, Marley-style, tightening around your throat, as you butted your head against the scabby base of … Continue reading →

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The Sorceress

Posted on November 11, 2024 by John Biscello

To be a mother, and to double as a dark sorceress, a cleaver of dried bones, could not have been easy. Especially in the 1950s. They burned witches then, as well as reds and blacks and faggots, and other things … Continue reading →

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We Pause for Glacial Identification

Posted on November 10, 2024 by John Biscello

It is the winter within, the writer dying, the chaos bible scored in ice, texts of veins, I mean, I think I mean, veins of text, veins and bulging whorls of text embedded in ice, and your body moving through … Continue reading →

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Kerouac

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

Kerouac whizzed and hummed. He lived with smoldering zest a crumbling highway within. He took to this unlighted highway, equal parts tour guide and lost little lamb, nuzzling a candle, believing that even the littlest light would make him brave, … Continue reading →

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The Bride at Jean Cocteau

Posted on September 26, 2024 by John Biscello

Our experimental chamber film, The Bride, will have its Santa Fe debut, screening at the historic Jean Cocteau Cinema.

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Women Without Men

Posted on September 5, 2024 by John Biscello

They grew breasts beyond compare. They grew breasts because they had to. Flat-chested, they weren’t considered manly enough. Grow some breasts, the administrative contingent would say. Grow some breasts and then maybe you can join us on the battlefield. A … Continue reading →

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Blue Star trilogy

Posted on August 30, 2024 by John Biscello

After completing my most recent novel, Worlds Last Imagined, it, along with two other novels–No One Dreams in Color and None So Distant–comprise what I’m calling my Blue Star trilogy (2020-2024). The blue star reference pertains, at least in its … Continue reading →

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Cowpunk at the Purgatory Corral

Posted on August 30, 2024 by John Biscello

Excerpt from my novel, None So Distant: We are out here on all fours panting in the sun the bleary merciless maraschino sun burning us. It has been a long while one of those spells that feels foreverish out here … Continue reading →

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