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.

Review of Nocturne

Posted on December 13, 2018 by John Biscello

Johanna Debiase’s review of Nocturne Variations, appearing in the Taos News. “John Biscello’s newest novel, Nocturne Variations, is exactly what the title promises, a dreamy narrative landscape bursting with a lyrical kaleidoscope of sights, sounds and perspectives. The reader is … Continue reading →

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Promontory

Posted on December 12, 2018 by John Biscello

I, perched on a craggy promontory overlooking my childhood, and its entire formless geography, saw them, my friends, all of them: a mutant strain of cryogeny, a mummified quivering changelessness, as if youth hadn’t been lived through but pickled. It … Continue reading →

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Distance

Posted on December 12, 2018 by John Biscello

 People have called it the glow, the click, the hum, and for every abnormal drinker, for every addict, you are willing trade in everything for what amounts to a rigged facsimile of eternity. It is the sort of false eternity … Continue reading →

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Fathers and Sons

Posted on December 12, 2018 by John Biscello

I understand that I am not only with my father and grandfather as family, but also as a writer. I am sketching them. The mechanical hand in my mind that never stops is charting and sketching and composing them. I … Continue reading →

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Swing Set

Posted on December 12, 2018 by John Biscello

   There was that day you wore your hair in pigtails.    You were thirteen. Pigtails and a pale blue summer dress. I think the dress was new.    My mother had died three days earlier.    You and I … Continue reading →

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Forever’s Youth

Posted on December 12, 2018 by John Biscello

   Anya and I had almost three weeks. The flirt and tease of a young forever.    It felt good to be with Anya in this new way. We were no longer ourselves, we were ourselves as a couple, this … Continue reading →

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Roseblood

Posted on December 12, 2018 by John Biscello

I could feel the music of a slow future dying inside me. And the past very much alive, like shimmering beatific flowers, like luscious night-thistles. The past is a changeable feast. Except it is a feast that eats and eats … Continue reading →

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Boneyard’s Way

Posted on December 12, 2018 by John Biscello

I tell myself stories in the dark, Anya. Whether or not they help is either of primary consequence or none at all. Sometimes you have to walk through the boneyard in order to reach the garden. This is what I … Continue reading →

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Viewfinder

Posted on December 12, 2018 by John Biscello

Childhood is an ongoing historical fiction that changes based on who you are when you’re examining it. Who you are in certain periods and chapters in your life, determines what your childhood is. Was would imply that childhood is fixed … Continue reading →

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The Dream Outward

Posted on December 12, 2018 by John Biscello

I tell myself stories in the dark, Anya. It helps. Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it makes things worse. Or keeps everything the same. Which is a different kind of worse. Anya I long to reach you only because I … Continue reading →

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