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.

Inheritance

Amidst divisive riot, the clear sound of two tears mating upon the crest of a sunken cheek; a mother’s grief, near to fasting and silence, the warmest cross to inherit in holding the meek inviolate.

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Winter, a Love Story

Winter’s brides, wearing long white scarves of sleet and song, touching pale sky to blue lips, breathing memory and frost; their sorrow and spectral want grows hands  that enclose me, a robust crush, matrimonial in its grip, until I am … Continue reading →

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Zuzu’s Petals

(It’s a Wonderful Life haiku) A father’s pocket, containing secret petals— the meaning of love.

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First Love, Winter

Boy and girl, sledding tongues, no words— Winter, warming up.

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Gateway

  It is here in this place, this chaste hollow, where my heart, bare to touch and asking, reveals itself in equal measures as gospel and wound, singing softly its locks and ravels to reach another’s lighted room, unbarred.

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The Little People

Podcast of my short story “The Little People,” featured in the November issue of The Golden Walkman, a “literary magazine for your ears.” Listen here.

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Scar

A jigsaw scar of light, outsourcing God’s inscrutable heart, a movable sear lost and found everywhere, as the mouth of the cave brightly attests.

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Call

Channeling the fire in my throat to meet my heart’s rising call, or, how the mating of arson and grace breathes new life into immeasurably just cause.

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Cinema

When rooted squarely in the flickering center of your life as a mysterious cinematic expedition, duly resigned to the happy burning of chapters and missives, it is there and then that fascination, like a dimestore Virgil, takes curious hold, enacting … Continue reading →

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Review of Carnet d’AmeriKa

“To be human is to transform; to be human is to name, then name anew. I must remember the inseparable nature of word and action.” Erin Currier, 6 November, 2004 In a sense this passage became one of Erin Currier’s … Continue reading →

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