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.

Baggage Claim

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

Was it fate, a fire sale, history? The longest-running soap serial was drawing to a close, if only the damned latch hadn’t been broken, if only escape plans could be executed without the claim of baggage. #12 from Untitled Film … Continue reading →

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What Dreams May Come

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

Her dreams possessed the symmetry of a sorrow undisclosed to the dreamer who borrowed her body to model alleged reality. #11 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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Checklist

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

If someone would have told her it would be like giving birth to a checklist of domestic servitude and falsely fresh produce on a numbingly repeatable basis, she might have seriously pursued her childhood dream of running away with the … Continue reading →

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Perspective

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

From where she sat, the house seemed to be swaddled in sheer gauze, and flickering, like a light that was about to go out. She considered adjusting her view to dispel what must be an illusion, but there was something … Continue reading →

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Somewhere

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

You don’t know where the nights go, what apparitions with monstrous appetites do the swallowing. It is a mystery, soundless, unsigned. But what remained in the whorish glare of daytime were all the undigested bits, the flesh creeping with prickly … Continue reading →

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Cocktail Mixer

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

It wasn’t her house, her nightgown, her anything. And the old woman in the sun hat snoring like a phlegmatic breeze— Who was she? Existential hangovers are the worst, she thought to herself, as she tried to piece together hazy … Continue reading →

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As Above

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

Consider the script– Girl, unmade by past trauma, sees angels, and cedes. #6 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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Missive

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

Letter from Wonderland– Dear Miss So-and-So, Your husband injured himself chasing a young girl in fuzzy pink rabbit ears down a dark narrow hole. Do not expect him home any time soon. Yours Truly, A Secret Admirer.   #5 from … Continue reading →

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The Replacement

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

The course couldn’t be changed, same as the sounds coming from the other side of the door, which belonged to her broken-in replacement. She waited, for something to stop, or perhaps to knock and show that the next move was … Continue reading →

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Soap Drama

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

She thought about it at least once every night. What it would be like if he wasn’t there, if she, with delicate blankness befitting a housewife, mixed his cocktail in a new way a different way, just once, then watched … Continue reading →

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