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 three novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, and Nocturne Variations, 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.

Void and Nil

Evie laughed to herself. It was just acting. Then again, she often did have trouble determining where she ended and someone else began. She wasn’t sure if this was a side-effect to acting, or to existing. Or if there was … Continue reading

Posted in Artwork, Books, photography, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

In Dreams Begin First Person

I am running.It feels like I’ve been running for a long time.I want to turn around and look behind me but my neck is locked into place.So I can’t see who or what is chasing me, but I know it’s … Continue reading

Posted in Artwork, Books, photography, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Autumn Colored Souls

Does Bevel know that the color of Lucy’s soul is autumn? As Lucy danced, I could see her branches sprouting in different directions, while yellow leaves flew everywhere, like star-pointed birds. You want to kiss me really, really bad, don’t … Continue reading

Posted in Books, Prose, photography | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Abyss and You

Excerpt from The Last Furies: When Evie disappeared, I wondered about all sorts of things, including my own sense of reality. I wondered about the photos of Evie I had burned, and the five that remained, and what their place … Continue reading

Posted in Books, photography, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Wendigo Talespin

My sixth novel, No One Dreams in Color, started as a story, titled Wendigo. Which then became a film script. Which eventually turned into a novel revolving around a man, Paul Kirby, who had written a story which he had … Continue reading

Posted in Books, Cinema, photography, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sound and the Furies

My novel, The Last Furies, was partly inspired by the life, legend and poetic reckoning of the Symbolist brat-prince, Arthur Rimbaud. As a hybrid work, that is both an endless remix of a novel and a sorcerer’s cryptic handbook, the … Continue reading

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

Sea Change

Excerpt from my novel, No One Dreams in Color. 1.    I was nineteen and lost when I first saw Wendigo. That was the year everything broke apart. In the center, and in other places too.    My mother died, … Continue reading

Posted in Artwork, Books, photography, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Cinema Scope

A catalog of my film scripts, and accompanying loglines, listed on Stage 32.

Posted in Artwork, Cinema, photography, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nipples don’t Kill

In the feral country of nipples,where she-wolves raisetheir pups to howl unashamedlyat the moon,many many men,unconsciously ensnaredin puritanical roots,fear, scorn and revilethe mystery of the female nipple,its organic promise of milk and eternitytoo vagrantly radiantfor many many men’s eyes to … Continue reading

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

The Source

For mothers everywhere: Their hearts, registeredas infinite beacons,have gone gentlyand luminously into nightsnot so good and pitch-black, bravingflytrap folds and god-awful rowsto soothe, mend andrestore the bruised vitalsof daughters and sons;they go, infused with bright rage,green force driving homenocturnes and … Continue reading

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