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.

Legacy

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

After watching the bruised legacy of her childhood pass her by out of the corner of her eye, she had developed an astigmatism which, in effect, bred her glaring suspicion of distance, and violent need of its diffuse edges.   … Continue reading →

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The Writing Life

Posted on September 25, 2020 by John Biscello

These are the tools of my trade. I have written in spiral-bound notebooks, college-ruled, for a long time. They are always of varying colors. Red, yellow, blue, purple, black. Never green. I write with a Zebra F-402 ballpoint pen, black … Continue reading →

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In Search of Lost Time

Posted on September 18, 2020 by John Biscello

A meditation on memory, longing, storytelling and spiritual homesickness.

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Street Corner Lore

Posted on September 17, 2020 by John Biscello

The red light green light of young love and longing in a world of urban lore. Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.

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Kissing Anya

Posted on September 17, 2020 by John Biscello

Young love, urban lore, coming of age, and the nature of forever. An excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.

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Glow

Posted on September 16, 2020 by John Biscello

Childhood and coke parties. Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.

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Wendigo

Posted on September 9, 2020 by John Biscello

Long-distance shot of a snowy landscape, a tundra. Completely silent. A MAN enters the frame, running. He is wearing a bulky white parka, its fur-lined hood pulled over his head, and flying a fire-orange kite. We continue to see the … Continue reading →

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Coils

Posted on September 8, 2020 by John Biscello

To caper at the edge, where the seething lyric happens, poetry with slits and fast teeth, where the hours of phenomena are boiled and reduced to a single quivering instant, an umbilical knot of light upon tenderest scraps and coils.

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Ravels

Posted on September 7, 2020 by John Biscello

At the wound’s core, dark luscious ravels of text, courting, inviolate measures, the fathomless brood of Beauty’s End.

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Craft

Posted on September 7, 2020 by John Biscello

How a writer, cave-timing dark and solitude, annoints an ember by crafting the small hours into a flagrant torch.

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