Author Archives: John Biscello

About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, spoken word performer, and playwright, John Biscello now lives in Taos, New Mexico. He is the author of two novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale and Raking the Dust, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag. His fiction and poetry has appeared in: Art Times, nthposition, The Wanderlust Review, Ophelia Street, Caper, Polyphony, Dilate, Militant Roger, Chokecherries, Farmhouse, BENT, The 555 Collective, Instigator, Brass Sopaipilla, The Iconoclast, Adobe Walls, Kansas City Voices, and the Tishman Review. His blog--Notes of an Urban Stray--can be read at johnbiscello.blogspot.com. Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.

Marvel

In these mortal coils I have always marveled at the sheer lightness of centuries rising to meet love in a single feral drop of gospel distilled to its purest form.

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

Shadows on Ice

Excerpt from Nocturne Variations.    They were spinning slowly, ever so slowly.    Do you want to go faster, Piers reached down for the dial. I can make us go faster.    No, Anya smiled. I like the speed. We’re … Continue reading

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

The Well

Excerpt from Nocturne Variations When Piers was six she fell into a well. The well was abandoned and no longer had any water in it. If there would have been water in it, Piers would have drowned. Sometimes she’d imagine … Continue reading

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

No Man’s Brooklyn

I have started working on my new novel: No Man’s Brooklyn.  A return to the bones of childhood, and to tangled roots. A return to the gritty lore of Bensonhurst.  

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

Digging for Air

There was always plenty of tomorrow-talk, bright ribbons of noise amounting to nothing. What we would do, where we would go, how we’d become this or that. We erected fragile monuments to ourselves, and expected others to pay their respects, … Continue reading

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

Childhood’s End?

Childhood, as a static port or fixed constellation, remains an ongoing historical fiction, in which small deaths, consigned to witnesses, inevitably breed the shadows of regeneration.

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

Garden

In seeding the bones fragile means to nuptial growth among mortal remains.

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

Birth of a Prologue

   They say you can’t go home again. I don’t know who “they” are, but apparently this mysterious phantom collective is well-stocked in facts, aphorisms and guidelines.    I was going home again, to Brooklyn, though the notion of return, … Continue reading

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

Men Without Women

Review of Haruki Murakami’s Men Without Women appearing in Riot Material. “Men Without Women, a title borrowed from Hemingway’s 1927 collection of stories, bears ancestral resemblance to the shorter work of Hemingway sans the masculine mettle and tough-guy stoicism. Murakami’s … Continue reading

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

Samsa in Transit

It had been one of those nights, but still, the stairs were unexpected. The bug, formerly known as Gregor Samsa, scuttled to the eroded edge of a step bleached by white-hot light, and he considered the view, the ascent, the blue-dark, … Continue reading

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