Author Archives: John Biscello

Unknown's avatar

About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, performer, and playwright, John Biscello, has lived in the high-desert grunge-wonderland of Taos, New Mexico since 2001. He is the author of four novels, Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, Nocturne Variations, and No Man’s Brooklyn; a collection of stories, Freeze Tag, two poetry collections, Arclight and Moonglow on Mercy Street; and a fable, The Jackdaw and the Doll, illustrated by Izumi Yokoyama. He also adapted classic fables, which were paired with the vintage illustrations of artist, Paul Bransom, for the collection: Once Upon a Time, Classic Fables Reimagined. His produced, full-length plays include: LOBSTERS ON ICE, ADAGIO FOR STRAYS, THE BEST MEDICINE, ZEITGEIST, U.S.A., and WEREWOLVES DON’T WALTZ.

Tenor

Posted on April 19, 2020 by John Biscello

The difference between I am here and I was here is delicately slight, and not really a matter of tense but rather one of plaited tenor and climate, in which degrees, separating our ghost from our dreams, keeps us shivering … Continue reading →

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

Icy Hot

Posted on April 19, 2020 by John Biscello

Between worlds, vying for merger, the reigning glacial celibacy of stars, and the marvelous frisson of pure mortal throb— Where you are not, find your ghost’s bluest breath of want upon a mirrored caste of longing.

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

Sheer

Posted on April 19, 2020 by John Biscello

By course of sheerness, our fragilest bits exposed– How the light gets in.    

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

Found Blue

Posted on April 19, 2020 by John Biscello

We do not enter the bluest hours, they come upon us, tender fugue and gallows silk, where we, in blatant trembling sheerness, are revealed to ourselves as the bated wisps between air and perish.

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

Cathedral

Posted on April 18, 2020 by John Biscello

From the absolute hovel of unlettered ruins, a crabby shard, reflecting a tasseled badge of moonlight— this, the modest origins to ceremony and marvel, as she built an outlaw cathedral of self, in which she dwelled and worshipped, vagrantly hospitable … Continue reading →

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

Music

Posted on April 16, 2020 by John Biscello

To the call of light, Music, unending, beckons you to harmonize.    

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

Virtuoso

Posted on April 16, 2020 by John Biscello

Virtuoso, by turns, this dazzling concert of light, golden, sounded, the pooling reserve of free jazz, ordered to measureless standards, rounding into sublime.

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

Why Not?

Posted on April 16, 2020 by John Biscello

A soul, timeless, at play in a field of dazzling light and changeable shapes, or, how the ordered free jazz of plotlessness keeps on turning, and turning, within the Great Mystery into which I was called to enter and praise.

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

The New Romantics

Posted on April 15, 2020 by John Biscello

We need visionaries, now, more than ever. Those in tenderest thrall to the lore of zeal and trespass, this side of dreaming. We barker for the rise and call of the New Romantics who, in their shedding of scales and … Continue reading →

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

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place of Sharing

Posted on April 15, 2020 by John Biscello

Poetry and art cannot be quarantined, as it moves freely though time and space, and announces its presence in cells, wind, electric waves of becoming. Here, a poem finds a public home on the window of Parse Seco, courtesy of … Continue reading →

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