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.

Gash

Nostalgia, backlit by a warm, gashing flare, scoring Time’s passage.

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Alchemy

Lone gull, stops, listens, the gospel of alchemy– water turned to gold.

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No Moral

Beach noir meets fable, Dashiell Hammett and Aesop filtered through lone gull.

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Cape

A spectral, widespreading cape of lavender misting the seascape, and in the distance, a house, fronted by palms  looking like shadowy pom-poms, its windows lighted eyes blazing swaths of yellow to imbibe the encroaching nocturne.

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Nuptial

Splitting image, one sun mounts another, cradled in nuptial fire.

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Shimmer

Light’s slow, basking crush on the sea’s shimmied wavelengths– A sunset affair.

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Illustory

The sky, a photographic illusion, a veiled overlay, which the sun, in this starring instance, burns through from behind, creating a pinhole aperture through which one can vision proof of eternity, and its unending volumes of light.

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The Sadness of Beautiful Things

Review of Simon Van Booy’s collection of stories, The Sadness of Beautiful Things. “O Lord, give us each our own death. Grant us the dying that comes forth from that life in which we knew love, grappled with meaning, felt … Continue reading →

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Ripening

“They wanted to blossom, and blossoming is being beautiful. But we want to ripen, and this means being dark and taking pains.”–Rainer Maria Rilke O poor fragile blossom, hue of vetted contradiction, do bask in dark, soft, storied chambers and … Continue reading →

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The Rebirth of Aphrodite

The tasseled white veins of the sea pulsate and spread powdery billows. The wild expanse is a magnificent lay of azure froth and fizzing eyelets, goldened by the dragon’s teeth of sun. Clefted, between a rock and a soft place, … Continue reading →

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