Author Archives: John Biscello

Unknown's avatar

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.

Ashprint

Posted on August 9, 2017 by John Biscello

Out of the ashes arose nothing recognizable. Embers, in memory, projected a blank sheaf of light to cover the loss.

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

Canticle

Posted on July 26, 2017 by John Biscello

The stars indelibly printed on obsidian reams of sky, a course in illuminated text by which we redeem the necessary canticle to cite a gilded theme.

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

Grapple

Posted on July 25, 2017 by John Biscello

To constantly grapple with the past feels like strangling a mannequin, your hands sacrificed to false intimacy and the empty reaping of love’s labor by unreal standards.

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

Citrus

Posted on July 23, 2017 by John Biscello

  Upon a citrus-infused sky, bright and sorry, the dance of acidic vapors and serpentine ravels, assuming the burden of a faceless woman, basking

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

Touch

Posted on July 20, 2017 by John Biscello

It is the quiet history of touch, tendered through years of symmetry and fable, a radiant pulsing in the spaces between fingers, holy derived, charging us to mercy and enclosure.

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

Golem

Posted on July 20, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from Nocturne Variations: I think, the bottom line, Piers, is that one’s protector is or can become one’s destroyer. Angels are monsters in wait, same as monsters are angels awaiting transformative context. The two are one and to divide … Continue reading →

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

What Remains?

Posted on July 18, 2017 by John Biscello

If I were to go tomorrow, and by go I mean no more spells of wonder, or lines leveling a manic fate, no more ancient fireflies like safety pins fastening us to thin, thin dreams, all our hollow and chaste … Continue reading →

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

Riversong

Posted on July 16, 2017 by John Biscello

Show us where it is you’re dying, the silent ebb and roaring tides of dark, expose to us, with a scalpel’s exactitude, the finite lineage of your deepest wounds and locks, and we promise that the light’s searing of naked … Continue reading →

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

Thursday’s Child

Posted on July 15, 2017 by John Biscello

Wrapped snugly in a blanket of godlight, Thursday’s child indwells the symmetry of tigers burning bright to leave tracks on empty.  

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

Arc

Posted on July 10, 2017 by John Biscello

Starstruck, and wrestling within mortal coils, God’s lucid fame overshadows the cast of our solitary arc.

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