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.

Gone Again

Posted on August 23, 2019 by John Biscello

Under a sunstreaked tree, rough bark against skin, texture of a stolen kiss— She was touched, and saddened too, that these days it was her ghost who did most of her living for her, amidst the brackish ebb and flow … Continue reading →

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The Mission

Posted on August 23, 2019 by John Biscello

There were places she hadn’t been, wilds within that had escaped her gravely silent stalking. A fuse had been lit. Concentration was required. And stillness. The kind of stillness that would bring her face to face with the deeply unremembered … Continue reading →

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Neo-Realism

Posted on August 22, 2019 by John Biscello

There was something about a white telephone, unringing, that made her think of tightly wound spirals of cigarette-smoke in Italian films, or poorly lit hotel rooms where actresses played to the pall of their silence and wanting. Any moment now, … Continue reading →

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Want Ad

Posted on August 22, 2019 by John Biscello

After one year, one month, and two days, what she called her unsentimental education, she understood the city to be both a cryptic boneyard and high-rise projection which excluded her from any real contact. God, how she loved holding it … Continue reading →

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Welcome to the Terrordome

Posted on August 22, 2019 by John Biscello

She remembered how her friend used to say fear was an acronym for False Evidence Appearing Real. Another one she had come across— Fuck Everything and Run. She was, at present, beyond the scope and warrant of both acronyms. Real … Continue reading →

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Icarus, Remixed

Posted on August 19, 2019 by John Biscello

I was Icarus with double-edged wings once upon a time. The dreamer’s big eyes, full of flames and longing, the impetuous nature, the jazz of my soaring, all of it defined me as the blaring antithesis to my dad’s son-proofed … Continue reading →

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In Praise of Ryokan

Posted on August 15, 2019 by John Biscello

The moon, melting liquid frost onto my window, slips through my fingers, as I recall that legendary jewel thief who once pulled off an impossible heist, which, to this day, the right kind of fools, lovers and lunatics, constellate their … Continue reading →

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Gusty Winds May Exist

Posted on August 14, 2019 by John Biscello

Gusty Winds May Exist. This was the sign I saw on the highway when driving back from Albuquerque. Gusty Winds May Exist. Which, speculatively insinuates, they may also not exist. A climate conundrum and barometric riddle to challenge everything you thought you knew about … Continue reading →

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Pressure Cooker

Posted on August 13, 2019 by John Biscello

Sometimes the last straw was a torn grocery bag while several cracked eggs bled yolk onto the floor and you heard his key in the front door and the blackening notion that any one of the pans would do the … Continue reading →

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Room to Spare

Posted on August 13, 2019 by John Biscello

At a lighted remove, she coerces solitude into a tender rapport with her barest haunt.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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