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.

Fall

In autumn’s brisk grief, leaves flashing briefest raptures to seed elegies.

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Vagrant

Near to the bone warming and wildly grazing in solitude not lonely but rather alone in the company of words stories voices enabling vagrancy within most cherished intimacies rooting me home.

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Pasture

Near to the bone wildly grazing in solitude not lonely but rather alone in the company of words stories voices enabling my vagrancy in rooting me home.

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Dipper

Solitude warming in the company of words– Shorthand for spooning.

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If God

We’ve heard rumors that God doesn’t know he exists. She exists. It. Whatever the gender or genderless you get the picture. God doesn’t know there is such thing as God that he is this thing we call God this blessed … Continue reading →

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Where We Played

You must remember this: the force of all things moving commingled with the ephemera of all things passing. This the spell the grail the gist of what I am after which is also after me. The stalker stalked while pursuing. … Continue reading →

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Echoes Extended

Grief attends to the bones. And does so listening to the spaces between the hollows where the ghosts are held hissing where loss compounded by fractures gives rise to near distant voices crying out on behalf of all that’s gone … Continue reading →

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Process of Echoes

Grief attends to the bones. And does so listening to the spaces between the hollows where the ghosts are held hissing where loss compounded by fractures gives rise to near distant voices crying out on behalf of all that’s gone … Continue reading →

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Reform

Out here we fast on slimming heaps of gratitude. None of us are greedy. Everyone gets their helpings. We chow down on gratitude and then pass it along making sure everyone gets their fill. Gratitude has become our beef stock … Continue reading →

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Lot

We are out here on all fours panting in the sun the bleary merciless maraschino sun burning us. It has been a long while one of those spells that feels foreverish out here in these fields unseen dreaming of god … Continue reading →

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