Author Archives: John Biscello

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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.

The Writing Life

Posted on April 14, 2020 by John Biscello

Sneak-peek into the process: I always write by hand, with my F-402 ballpoint pn (black ink), in one-subject spiral notebooks, the cheap kind that come in different colors (mostly I go with red, purple and yellow, occasionally blue or black, … Continue reading →

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Thrall

Posted on April 14, 2020 by John Biscello

In tenderest thrall to the near side of dreaming— Means to endlessness.

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This Side of Dreaming

Posted on April 14, 2020 by John Biscello

It became abundantly clear— we needed visionaries, to marvel dumbly, in bated thrall to wonder’s wheeling gist.

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Walkabout

Posted on April 14, 2020 by John Biscello

Do not be afraid, the golden freight  of trespass reigns in your footsteps.    

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Thin Air

Posted on April 14, 2020 by John Biscello

As the plot thickens, Mystery sires its own call, thinning to wonder.    

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The Silence

Posted on April 13, 2020 by John Biscello

My friend who lives in the woods told me there’s a silence there he’s never heard before. Said he’s lived in the woods for nearly twenty years and while he’s heard plenty of quiet, volumes and volumes of quiet, the … Continue reading →

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Shed

Posted on April 13, 2020 by John Biscello

Eavesdropping, at dream’s edge, where memory pools to silver and risk seeks its own level, a new silence breathes like silk upon my fool’s fate to shed lightly, and cherish.

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Into the Mystic

Posted on April 12, 2020 by John Biscello

I became a bird, just for a little while. It wasn’t sorcery, it was need, a whirling imperative from or into the unknown, or perhaps the broken skin of a bared dream. I became a bird and flew up to … Continue reading →

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How the Light Gets In

Posted on April 12, 2020 by John Biscello

The information is wrong, or in drastic need of revision— Do not stay strong, but rather bless your broken softly, and dare to inherit strength by its supplest means and tenderest turns toward the unknown, calling.

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You Say You Want a Revolution

Posted on April 12, 2020 by John Biscello

The secret to becoming a true revolutionary, lay yourself out upon the world’s limitless altar of secrets, and praise the hidden roots of everything you encounter daily, heart bared as proof of light’s need to air.

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