Author Archives: John Biscello

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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.

Story

Posted on May 27, 2026 by John Biscello

Within the alchemy of gist and wonder resides the evergreening lush dark center of stories through which the self rivets its fluid course.

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Habitat

Posted on May 27, 2026 by John Biscello

Behind the ghosts further ghosts calling. Possession by layered turns and takes evincing quantum roles through which we inhabit.  

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Enclosure

Posted on May 27, 2026 by John Biscello

In the longaching aria and grain of Memory, its mortuary and refrain, the gauzy calling of ghosts— Follow our bodiless drift and want, they monotone in lo-fi chorus— Enclosure, by softly rounded turns, resetting your edited                         self to sync … Continue reading →

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Residual

Posted on May 27, 2026 by John Biscello

Memory aligning spectral residue and gauzy embers, slow-drifting motes and emissaries of Time’s passage, moving from nowhere to nowhere, and swallowing whole worlds in the process.

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Archival

Posted on May 27, 2026 by John Biscello

Memory as night-blooming arias, diffuse and fasting on distances proliferating inwardly to sepia and mute.

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Pangs

Posted on May 26, 2026 by John Biscello

Memory as night-blooming carrion— its resolve and intrigue leavening the supply of demand to feed.

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Polyphony

Posted on May 26, 2026 by John Biscello

In the Shiva-limbed solitude of invention rabbitual copulation begets the wildfire spreading of hymns lusting for voices to subsume and consecrate.

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After

Posted on May 26, 2026 by John Biscello

Bodiless, adrift, blankly navigating the séance of cinema where you, minus a role, are reassigned as a nimbus scab on the patina of Time                         no more I                         of which to speak                         or pirate.

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Little Light of Ours

Posted on May 26, 2026 by John Biscello

In pools of practiced moving distances words labor by light’s traveling standards to take flight and submerge in due riveted course.

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Cask

Posted on May 25, 2026 by John Biscello

In the clotted rectum of Memory, a roving cadre of masked strangers, who, in their Bacchanalian cosplay and pursuits, cause you to reconsider the darkening press of Time, and intimacy, within the hoary cask of solitude.

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