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.

The Dance

Posted on September 16, 2025 by John Biscello

Her hips began the snakedance, the spasmodic erotic wiggle. She told me to listen closely, and her hips began hissing a slow cadence, the world losing its air, the world a depleted lunar asthmatic in need of oxygen blasts. My … Continue reading →

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Feathers

Posted on September 16, 2025 by John Biscello

As she moved her bladed hips beneath him, small dark starshaped birds tore out of her hips, nipping at the air, and were then immediately sucked back into her hips, as if by an invisible vacuum. He stopped, and asked—What … Continue reading →

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Hips Don’t Lie

Posted on September 16, 2025 by John Biscello

The hips don’t lie. They are the truth-telling giants, and the whistle-blowers transmitting through pirate radio. They are also the catacombs and weather satellites of one’s cumulative genealogy. When an old person falls and breaks their hip, it is not … Continue reading →

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Hips

Posted on September 16, 2025 by John Biscello

I can no longer remember where I was when it happened, only that it happened, it must have happened. Sometimes we cry silent recordings in our bones, or guts, or maybe it is our hips that are the primary storehouses … Continue reading →

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Mirror

Posted on September 15, 2025 by John Biscello

She opened her stomach. I took out my lighter, produced a flame, and cast light into the darkness. I saw a single object, a mirror. A square mirror with a baroque metal exterior: cursive, elegant. I saw part of my … Continue reading →

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Sideshow

Posted on September 15, 2025 by John Biscello

Let me show you, she said. She proceeded to open her stomach, almost as if she were made from wood or metal, something not flesh, and it cleanly opened to reveal a dark chamber. I stood there, not sure what … Continue reading →

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Last Furies: Now Available!

Posted on September 14, 2025 by John Biscello

I am excited to share the news that my novel, The Last Furies, has officially been released, and is available in paperback, e-book and audio-book editions.  The book has been published by Lost Telegram Press, an indie publisher based out of Ontario, … Continue reading →

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Old and Young

Posted on September 12, 2025 by John Biscello

In the fairy tale the young girl slept for a long time and when she woke up she was old. She saw her old self in the mirror and was horrified, but also accepting. And a little in love. I … Continue reading →

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Others

Posted on September 12, 2025 by John Biscello

I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t hear myself in my head anymore. I was hearing someone else. This someone else was older, much older than me, and tired. Her words dragged, as if part of a funeral procession. Her voice … Continue reading →

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Because I Dreamed

Posted on September 10, 2025 by John Biscello

I never say the babies’ names, because there is danger in that. I know that their names spoken, details given, things brought too much into the light, means we can be found. Their ears own so much: text, air, radio-waves, … Continue reading →

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