Tag Archives: writing life

Welcome to the Monkey House

Posted on October 24, 2024 by John Biscello

A man rattling the bars inside his cage that is the monkey house of writing and publishing, or, the holy seethe sounded in diminished chords and vinegar.

Posted in Audio, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Recorded Live

Posted on February 22, 2024 by John Biscello

In the cinema, hypnotized. I died a drugged and stupefied death again and again, crucified by the diminished returns of flickering images. I die, tranquilized, a sweetly solemn refugee from reality. This is the escapist way, its creed. Why pretend … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Knocking on Silence

Posted on January 24, 2024 by John Biscello

   Writing often feels like knocking on silence.  Like, I’m at some mysterious stranger’s door and it is raining outside and I am wet and rumpled (inside and out), hoping the door will open and I will be let in. … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nocturne Remixed

Posted on November 30, 2023 by John Biscello

Completed film script adaptation of my novel, Nocturne Variations. One of my ongoing projects has been adapting my novels and plays into feature-length film scripts, and it has been a great joy and challenge and learning experience, remixing and re-visioning … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Cafe

Posted on September 12, 2023 by John Biscello

From the series, Japan Poems. Words, well-warmed by the soft buttery spread and halo of naked bulbs– In tenderest solitude, texts run on, deviant, unfinished, bare to the trespasses of touch and longing.

Posted in photography, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Baffling the Sphinx

Posted on August 14, 2022 by John Biscello

The word is my fourth dimension–Clarice Lispector And on the eighth and endless day, where the bottomless hallelujah meets Ouroboros, God created Clarice Lispector. Maybe. Maybe the music of that name was more pure music and vivid living syntax, and … Continue reading →

Posted in Books, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Weight of Writing

Posted on December 7, 2020 by John Biscello

A row of teethmarks in the spine of a pencil– Stressing a sentence.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Inspiration’s Track

Posted on January 21, 2020 by John Biscello

Inspiration is not a matter of chance, or waiting, or a magic spell that demands bated breath and fretted suspension— it is the fact that you pick up a pen, your fingers growing warm and intimate with its weight and … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Coil

Posted on November 24, 2019 by John Biscello

To caper at the edge, where the seething lyric happens, poetry with slits and fast teeth, where the hours of phenomena are boiled and reduced to a single quivering instant, an umbilical knot of light upon tenderest scraps and coils.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

taoStyling

Posted on October 12, 2018 by John Biscello

Interview in taoStyle, revolving around Taos, New York, the writing life, and my new novel, Nocturne Variations. “Brooklyn, New York born and raised author, poet, playwright and spoken word performance artist, John Biscello, has called Taos home since 2001. The … Continue reading →

Posted in Books, Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments