Author Archives: John Biscello

Unknown's avatar

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.

Dam

Posted on December 18, 2017 by John Biscello

  She swallows stones, or is made to—what feels like a martyred plunge of boulders. I am, by proxy, crushed. Is this what is meant by god-dam? The circulatory flush of light to dark dammed, and no god gets in … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Glean

Posted on December 18, 2017 by John Biscello

It came to me, a pensive glean, a vision. Tomorrowtime when we, the Inners, will no longer just be metaphysical whispers  or codified concepts. Tomorrowtime when the Outers will have found the means to extrapolate us, to call us into … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Golem

Posted on December 18, 2017 by John Biscello

To become more or less human, and right now I am less, much less, palsied, unlit, a compulsory golem riveting shallows and depths.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Plaything

Posted on December 18, 2017 by John Biscello

Wafting from afar, the intimate rumor of a divine toy, a cryptic plaything, implications in tow. A tonic and pacifier of blank rages; buoy and anti-freeze to sudden plunges into sub-zero climate. These conditions cannot be bested, but they can … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Dark

Posted on December 16, 2017 by John Biscello

I. I have begun to name and catalogue the different types of dark. It helps. Warm-dark, cave-dark, void-dark, womb-dark, sleep-dark, Eros-dark, blank-dark, siege-dark, and there is the anonymous dark that gets in your head and behind your eyes and in … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Dance

Posted on December 16, 2017 by John Biscello

I get so sleepy and restless and roiled and charged. If only they knew what they called world was simply a clusterfuck of particles dreaming of dance partners.

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Arclight

Posted on December 16, 2017 by John Biscello

Bidden by tatters, and gravity’s mutable arc, the palpitations guide me. They are subtle, duly engaged, a milk-slow run of shivers. Bracing the rim, I peer out of cavedark: everything is sudden, color-soaked, a ferocious din and melt, fringed shawls … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Deluge

Posted on December 15, 2017 by John Biscello

It is both pleasure, and an epitaph to pleasure, at the same time. When the phenomena occurs and the colors run and slash and slit down upon me in ravels of deluge. Spring-green, shell-pink, sky-blue, bled-red, egg-heaven, grief-yellow. I, a … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Pour

Posted on December 15, 2017 by John Biscello

So much light poured in, so much passive worth.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Draft

Posted on December 15, 2017 by John Biscello

There are no mirrors here, yet everywhere I see myself, a bated draft of furls, each bearing the right to exist, and respire ably.

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment