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.

Granny and Chaplin

  (Today is my grandmother May’s birthday, May-Day in my heart. Tomorrow is Sir Charlie Chaplin’s birthday, Fool’s-Play-Day in my heart. And so, in honor of these two wonderful and loving spirits) In times of hardship and heartache my grandmother … Continue reading →

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Trailer for Nocturne Variations

This is the first literary trailer for Nocturne Variations, my new novel, which will be released this November (Unsolicited Press). Watch here. ABOUT: Dystopic Peter Pan meets surrealist noir in this cinemythical tale about love, loss and the illusions of shadow-play. Los … Continue reading →

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Fount

I have heard her sing, lungs, founting with light, to braid dark hours into grace.

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Medicine

No exam needed, she just wanted to be held– Medicine through touch.

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Intent

Hold me, to dignity, to respiring intent, to nothing beyond this moment, arcing to bend.

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Sincerely Yours

Breath, you are my true master, and I, your borrowed disciple, graced by the slow dignity of equal measures, allotted free of charge, if attention is paid, with sincerest regards.

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Third to First

Third person, first, first person, last, it’s time he and I met for real.

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Secrets

Keeping secrets from yourself is like talking behind someone’s front.

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There

Your soul’s country is much bigger than you think. Find every last you there.

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Praise

Every last word, placemat for breath to perish, to fade, syncing praise.  

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