Author Archives: John Biscello

About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, spoken word performer, and playwright, John Biscello now lives in Taos, New Mexico. He is the author of three novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, and Nocturne Variations, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag. His fiction and poetry has appeared in: Art Times, nthposition, The Wanderlust Review, Ophelia Street, Caper, Polyphony, Dilate, Militant Roger, Chokecherries, Farmhouse, BENT, The 555 Collective, Instigator, Brass Sopaipilla, The Iconoclast, Adobe Walls, Kansas City Voices, and the Tishman Review. His blog--Notes of an Urban Stray--can be read at johnbiscello.blogspot.com. Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.

Crow Medicine

Posted on December 21, 2021 by John Biscello

How little they know, of her flights beyond reason– Her world, winged, widens.

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Featherweight

Posted on December 21, 2021 by John Biscello

Within the unbearable lightness of love’s proofed labor, a single quill, producing words that sing, traceless, while moving worlds to shake and reckon.

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Driving Lessons

Posted on December 21, 2021 by John Biscello

Hard to move forward, she thought, when bound to what’s gone– She bought new scissors.

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Day at the Beach

Posted on December 19, 2021 by John Biscello

Weeping for his past, rare photo of Peter Pan– Next stop, Neverland.

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The Gift

Posted on December 19, 2021 by John Biscello

We are here, but briefly,shadows of candle-lightdancing between dust and choir,day and night,so consider todaya good dayto begin, or to continueunwrapping yourself,and giving you to you as a gift,your soul rightfully taggedas both receiver and sender,in what constitutesa wild embracing … Continue reading →

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Star

Posted on December 17, 2021 by John Biscello

In the shadow of worn celestial totems– mortal weight to bear.

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Next?

Posted on December 17, 2021 by John Biscello

A dancer’s sad dream– Flight, short-lived, returning to earth, sharp teeth.

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Imprint

Posted on December 17, 2021 by John Biscello

Debutante, left to smolder and ash, traceless, in some afterlife, unannounced to the trailing cortege.

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Lulu in Hollywood

Posted on December 16, 2021 by John Biscello

By cyclical turns, she burned silver into stock– Lulu’s lasting surge.

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Shutter

Posted on December 16, 2021 by John Biscello

Witness to a claim, Pandora’s box-cutting gaze– hope at the bottom.

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