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.

Ghostlight

Posted on June 2, 2018 by John Biscello

It could be like this. Early morning, light milkpooling at the edges of your bed, dawnfrost bleaching your bare feet and subtly wriggling toes softly phantom, and I follow the erogenous ghost past your shins, to the rounded pate of … Continue reading →

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Wildflowers

Posted on June 1, 2018 by John Biscello

The child in me the fire carrier has always wanted to love big with no barriers or wind tunnels or bubble-clots to gum up the flow. I think maybe this is the Paradise whose greenest tips I have grazed and … Continue reading →

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How the Heart

Posted on June 1, 2018 by John Biscello

The sound, the fury, and brassy racket the multitudes within have made on my behalf, or fractures to mend, yet my heart, bare in its asking and grievous wants, resounds its measureless bask to innocence with no end or fixed … Continue reading →

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First, Lasting

Posted on May 31, 2018 by John Biscello

In the shrine that we build for first kisses, lies the furloughed still-warm lips of Childhood’s ghosts, forever puckering to seal love, airtight in its untold lore and claim to rose.

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Mount

Posted on May 31, 2018 by John Biscello

To sire a riptide, the roseblood moon, fully engorged, sank lower and lower, its binding navel grazing the lattice mouth and lacy tease of a sea forever beckoning softly creased light to charge and mount.  

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Dante’s Fire Drill

Posted on May 30, 2018 by John Biscello

Forget about it I said it’s fire under the bridge and watched from a distance as the flames and smoke rose over the sea as if Dante’s infernal take on the Birth of Venus.

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Trail

Posted on May 30, 2018 by John Biscello

My stubborn when growing sawteeth fierce as fuck rails against the moon and sun and sea and me bracing that double-edged notion to have to hold in trying to shape the music of air into something that leaves behind a … Continue reading →

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Swallow

Posted on May 30, 2018 by John Biscello

Today the glass is half empty full of singing void and fire me cutting my teeth on the rim tonguing rapaciously at spiked air clenching at the impossible slake if only I could swallow smooth as grace this bitter seethe … Continue reading →

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Live from Eden

Posted on May 30, 2018 by John Biscello

Her talk of bruised skin, and how it caught fire on the far side of trespass, fascinated me to no end. She wanted to burn clean through, didn’t want to hear any more talk about cooler heads prevailing, or stubborn … Continue reading →

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The Lion, The Mouse, and Me

Posted on May 29, 2018 by John Biscello

There is this small piece of glass an unstable irritant at the back of my heart way way back a shard that got lodged there god knows when and lately in considering and reflecting upon this bit of glass and the … Continue reading →

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