Something Twisted This Way Comes

Runaway, androgynist, shadow-puppeteer, Neverland refugee, nimbic love-child of Edie Sedgwick and Holden Caulfield.
Enter the world of Piers this November 30th.

Nocturne new cover

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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 author of novels Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, and Raking the Dust, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag, (Broken Land was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year), John has a new book coming out and we met recently to talk about it.
When I arrived at the World Cup that afternoon, John was already there, seated at the window, in the corner. I said hello before going to the counter to order a coffee from Jack Lorang, who just happened to be working that day. Lucky us! Jack makes some of the best espresso for miles around. He’s a damn fine writer as well, so it seemed doubly apropos that he should be there.
Americano in hand, I joined John at the window. Autumn was closing in on us, but it was still t-shirt weather, and the tourists walking by hadn’t given a thought to the changing seasons, judging by their breezy attire.
John (in a t-shirt and black jeans), looked every inch the quintessential Brooklyn (next generation), Beat Poet – a throwback to the era he continues to be inspired by.
We jumped right in as writers do; spanning the Western Canon in minutes – leaping from Miller (Henry) to Jack KerouacBill Burroughs and Paul Bowles to Shakespeare, Bukowski and back again faster than the speed of light. Almost.
Both of us fast, NYC fast, stream of consciousness fast, as the pages of beloved books, dog-eared and marked, turned over in our memory banks. Pages as familiar as a love once lost and then found again.”
Read the full interview here.
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David Lynch’s Room to Dream

Review of the new bio-memoir, Room to Dream, written by David Lynch and Krisitine McKenna.
“For the past forty somewhat years, David Lynch has dreamscaped a long day’s journey into night, taking audiences on a hallucinated tour through the underworld of their own splintered psyche. In a world, or perhaps I should say industry, often bereft of visionary spellcasting, Lynch has been the equivalent of a cinematic shaman, a goofball deviant in bi-polar shades, trafficking in symbols, archetypes, glyphs, images and impressions, fished out from a fathomless substratum. His oeuvre, a steam-punk Frankenstein of interchangeable parts, speaks to the savvy and glee of a mad scientist at play, while his blending of the eternal with American pop has given us a surrealistic soap-opera with an eye toward the numinous. Carl Jung eating apple pie in a diner while riffing on anima with a gum-clacking waitress named Flo; the red-jacketed ghost of James Dean partying on top of a toxic mushroom cloud while Marilyn Monroe lip-syncs “Happy Birthday” in Yiddish; a blue jukebox isolated in the desert where it serves as an altar for a congregation of devout rabbits . . . these could be dispatches from a world of Lynch’s making.”
Read the full review at Riot Material.
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sleeping women waking
If you are wondering
what is happening to the earth,
or what that sound is you hear
at night,
halfway between dream
and mortar,
rest easy,
it is simply women
waking up to move mountains,
by order of the Moon’s decree.
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Nimbically Yours

Piers, the nimbic embodiment
of all that there is, right now.
New Romanticism in the air.
It’s what clouds eat for breakfast.
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0J1A1956 bw
Piers, at play,
in the swingland of shadows
and thinned veils.
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Wings and Prayers

“Armed with burning patience, we shall enter the splendid cities.”–Arthur Rimbaud
Piers, rocking the morphlife, growing her wings.
Nocturne rising. Pinkmilk dawn on its tender heels.
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What Dreams May Come

Piers, cloud-crowned,
reflectively slotted in her shadowlife.
Nocturne on the horizon.



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Uncover Girl

Full cover spread of Nocturne Variations, coming this November.


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2018-07-08 19.56.02
Veils thin, and purple,
to reveal those between worlds–
Do not be so sure.
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