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.

Paper

Posted on December 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Place a piece of blank white paper on a smooth hard surface. Fill a glass of water. Drink half the water, pour the other half onto the paper. Savor the design it makes. Get matches. Light a match. Burn the … Continue reading →

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Puddle

Posted on December 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Find a puddle after a rainstorm. Close your eyes and dream yourself as a six-yr-old dreaming yourself as a magnificent and shimmering work of art. Or as a happy goldfish. Whether as shimmering art, or happy goldfish, open your eyes, … Continue reading →

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Bubbles

Posted on December 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Imagine an old wooden bathtub filled with rainbow bubbles set in the middle of a grassy meadow on a sunlovely day. Imagine that you are one of the bubbles. Feel the colors coursing through you, feel the sun warming your … Continue reading →

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Autumn

Posted on December 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Find a yellow leaf, a golden leaf, a leaf that’s mourned its own falling. Name it. Whisper its name to it, kiss it. Unname it, whisper silence to it, kiss it again. Fling the leaf and watch it dance in … Continue reading →

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A Winter’s Tale

Posted on December 4, 2018 by John Biscello

Satyr Stardust was ready to undertake the quest for which his whole life had been a ritual initiation, into and through the hidden heart of dark mysterious woods to the liminal edge of What Dreams May Come.

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Nightwatch

Posted on December 4, 2018 by John Biscello

Kin to symmetry, dreams, like roses, flare the course– Stalk your own wild seeds.

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Do You See What I See?

Posted on December 4, 2018 by John Biscello

In the lighted cursive of stars, she finds herself, coursing, a glaring speck of cosmic language, a flickerflash dot yellowing in a deluge of night-sea, tethered to distant moons and Memory, of who she was, and is, tenderly traced and … Continue reading →

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The Door

Posted on December 3, 2018 by John Biscello

The green woman from my dream handed me an ax, told me to break down the door. I held the ax limply, hesitating. Break down the door, she insisted, an overbite to her tone, this time adding the word goddamn. … Continue reading →

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Turn

Posted on December 3, 2018 by John Biscello

How fragile we are, how marvelous in our turns to matter, in love.    

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Bask

Posted on December 2, 2018 by John Biscello

Every last star ghosts its own holy rapture– we, a part of, bask.

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