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.

Seven Ways of Looking at a Starry Horse

Poem-art matrimony as part of the Poetry in Public Places Project.

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Book Giveaway

In honor of National Poetry Month (and April’s Fool’s Day) I will be giving away ten digital copies of my poetry collection, Arclight, to the first ten respondees. To request a copy, email me: johnbiscello@gmail.com. Cheers, and in the immortal … Continue reading →

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George

Monday, April 1st Went bowling with George last night. He refused to pick up the ball, just stood there, frozen, blank, his hands rsing toward his ears in a lullaby clasp as if he was planning on taking a nap. … Continue reading →

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Samsara and an Order of Fries

Consider the alternative: an itinerant circus where headless chickens pilot aeroplanes and kamikaze into the swollen sides of whitewashed barns and people in city traffic function as belligerent seals honking until the moon has a breakdown and refuses to come … Continue reading →

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Shadowlands

There was only so many chances one could be given. It was the law of averages, gambler’s physics, something. The woman he had left behind was the same as the one waiting inside. Dresses were funny that way. He wondered … Continue reading →

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Crash and Burn

South of no man’s border the landing strip was effaced by stones. Avalanche, they claimed. You kept on flying, critically low on fuel, never dreaming the side of a mountain might find you asleep too full of sky.  

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Baudelaire the Symbolist

Charlie, you grim fuck, you pissed on flowers to kiss Beauty’s soiled perfume.

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Lunacy

i found god buddha einstein mother mary and winnie the pooh in the very air that asks balloons to hold their breath as a testimony to the lore of attraction and cherish.

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(Sub)Missive

The lore of missive keeps writers minds on their hearts as they freehand scratches into the purling skin of history’s feted edges.

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Mission Impossible

Existential lessons from a girl named Alice– The secret door that is concealed behind a curtain and is smaller than you are is usually the best possible option when walking dream-first into the allegedly impossible.

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