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.

Balloon, Sun

The Red Balloon of storybook legend, after having reached its pinnacle of fame, decided to reinvent itself as a crimson bauble of a sun, reigning supreme over a private world of geometry and symbols, a realm of pure spirit and … Continue reading →

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Mercy

Always a mother, always gentle enclosure– Between palms, mercy.

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Haunt

Make me an offer, they shoot pretty girls, don’t they? Leave haunting to me.

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Riot’s Rake

Grateful for Ashleigh Grycner’s review of Raking the Dust, which appears in the latest installment of Riot Material, and coincides with RTD’s April 3rd relaunch. Raking the Dust, John Biscello’s masterful second novel, is first and foremost a novel about second … Continue reading →

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Marguerite Duras

Mapped, in glaring veins, cut, to secrete lucid text– Yes, love, I bleed light.

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Candles

One for each of us, happy born-day, dear sister– Beyond human reach.   (Artwork by Dorothea Tanning)

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Freeze

Ice skating past dark, on a frozen pond, alone– Where they swam, last spring.   (Artwork by Mark Rothko)

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Moonman

Moonman, when will you return? The world has gone to trembling, and scattered its once-proud feathers, we are presently undergoing a plumage crisis and are in dire need of luminous mending. Your glyphic signature remains in the palm of my … Continue reading →

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Edie

Too many small hours pimped out to wraiths on parade– Heart, in real time, breaks.

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Beginning Now

Craft. Tactile homage, and respect to craft, its inviolable depths and integrity, to approach craft as you would a fertile god, to practice, radically, at its altar, to consecrate with marked intent, and to know in your heart’s heart that … Continue reading →

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