Author Archives: John Biscello

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About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, novelist, poet, performer, playwright and filmmaker, John Biscello, has lived in the high-desert grunge-wonderland of Taos, New Mexico since 2001. He is the author of six novels, Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, Nocturne Variations, No Man’s Brooklyn, The Last Furies, and No One Dreams in Color; 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 plays have been staged and performed both nationally and internationally.

Redemption Song

“We are strangers and exiles here.  I feel it now more certainly than ever—and the only home a man ever has on earth, the only moment when he escapes from the prisms of loneliness, is when he enters into the … Continue reading →

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Impossible You Say?

“Literature is an exaggeration, a dramatization, and those who are nourished on it (as I was) are in great danger of trying to approximate an impossible rhythm.”—Anais Nin Leave the impossible to the fishes and the stars, to packed suitcases … Continue reading →

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Hunger

“Writers do not live one life, they live two. There is the living and then there is the writing. There is the second tasting, the delayed reaction.” How many, committed to their record of days upon the earth, crusade with … Continue reading →

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What A Little Moonlight Can Do

In that place of memory and moonlight where dreams pool into soft beautiful wrecks, I found her, casually adrift in a limbo of her own legislation, and at the slightest touch, under she went, the moonlight left trembling in remembrance … Continue reading →

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Words, Silence, Music

“Therefore, speak, speak at any price, say no matter what, since all words have equal value and all say the same thing, all repeat tirelessly the same call for help.” — Samuel Beckett If we are to take Mister Beckett … Continue reading →

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Paradox

“If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?”– from The Torah Paradox is the umbrella blown inside out in stormy weather, as … Continue reading →

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Autumn

I close my eyes and I see her again, a silhouette, near to distance, and dissolving– the autumn rain taps its seminal code for longing onto the trembling glass of a window closed.

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Burning Down the House

Grateful to be a contributor to the recently released anthology: As the World Burns: Writers and Artists Reflect on a World Gone Mad (Indie Blue Publishing). The women who spearheaded this project continue to create platforms in the publishing world … Continue reading →

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The Last Days of Jack Kerouac, a film-poem

1. Setting: A waterfront saloon. The wooden floor thatched in dull golden sawdust plus the acrid scent of piss wafting in from the urinal. 2. Cut to: A broad-shouldered man slumped on his barstool. The camera notices that the legs … Continue reading →

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The Other Election, or, If Prince Were President

On this day I have cast my vote in electing my soul now and again to serve as my guide, compass, captain and architect in getting through this thing called life, electric word life meaning forever, according to Prince’s prophetic … Continue reading →

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