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.

In a World of Blue

Posted on May 21, 2026 by John Biscello

It was autumn, or late summer. We met in the coat-room she called home for half her waking life. She, the coat-check girl, I, the elevator guy. We didn’t see ourselves as past-due or endangered then, but now, upon reflection… … Continue reading →

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Speakeasy

Posted on May 20, 2026 by John Biscello

They the fable-soaked and sorrowful children of the moon engender shadows if only to bootleg the mercury of departure to trespass lightly.

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In Our Solitude

Posted on May 20, 2026 by John Biscello

In the birthing solitude of invention, memories night-bloom as cosplay and eulogy in the flickering séance of cinema, keeping strange limitless company to a rounded minimum.

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Equatorial

Posted on May 20, 2026 by John Biscello

Find me, she urged, in a bird-broken sky, in mottled swills of ink darkening my want— Find me, wherever I am not, the explicit spreading of distance to tease and captivate Memory’s cosplay in a subtextual plot.

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Archive

Posted on May 19, 2026 by John Biscello

Memory, eulogies birthed in reverse, séance syncing soundly the cinema of ghosts with real-time revivals rounding to fade.

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Now Playing

Posted on May 18, 2026 by John Biscello

In the bluest breath of want we are ghosts haunting our own lives possessed by the mutable shadows of cinema.

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Freight Blues

Posted on May 18, 2026 by John Biscello

In the bluest breath of want, pooling to unseemly levels, making beggars of desire’s taste for excess, we run on and on, riveted to freight and laboring conundrum.

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Flicker

Posted on May 18, 2026 by John Biscello

In the longaching cinema of memory, the gauzy calling and want of ghosts, exponentially the veiled sum of fading and pulse.

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As if Ghosts

Posted on May 16, 2026 by John Biscello

She, as in ghosts, as in white-hot incubi with a seductive glassy not there stare, it bewitches and allures, bears melancholy freighted with scraped knees and mirror shards. There is a lucid unblinking poise, calculated reserve composed of crystal and … Continue reading →

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Haunt

Posted on May 16, 2026 by John Biscello

She, as in ghosts, the seductive glassy not-there stare making you long for what has passed, or is passing— Séance, persuasive in its call and touch, a cheat code flirting with disaster, or remnants haunting thereafter.

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