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.

Shift

Posted on May 20, 2018 by John Biscello

I used to wreck on a regular basis. Going off the rails was my subversive way of keeping things under control. Illusions and mirages astonished me, still do. Something, anything, to hold on to was my gutted mantra, hollowed out … Continue reading →

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Conscripture

Posted on May 20, 2018 by John Biscello

It is not me you are looking for, it is you. We dress and undress as mirrors, conscripting images to burn and cherish, to reveal and reflect the many sides of a lighted front, a sideways turn, modeling love in … Continue reading →

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Orphan

Posted on May 20, 2018 by John Biscello

The greatest lies I learned as a child seperated my soul from its choir, a violent breaching that took the littlest me to the far ends of my self, where I found, in dwelling, Beauty, untrammeled, opening her palm to … Continue reading →

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Course

Posted on May 20, 2018 by John Biscello

Water, its wisdom graded to flow, seeks its own level, you, soul-liquid in essence, symmetry to unknown, are there, beyond the kinks, crimps and wrinkles, a center, irreducibly empty, scored to choral interplay, wonder and chant, you, dream-host to the … Continue reading →

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Petals

Posted on May 20, 2018 by John Biscello

The white rose, impaled, knows itself beyond nomenclature and perish, inviolably Pure, a longing to feel the spring wind, and its alluvial fingers, upon bruised petals, fallen.  

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Confessions at the End of the Tunnel

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

   It was the very end of our relationship, when it was past the point of ever being good again.  We both knew it but neither one of us wanted to say it, because that would mean letting go and … Continue reading →

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Babytalk

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

(Story from Freeze Tag.) I had been dating Jeannie for two years and had been living with her for the past six months.  We had a place on 31st Street between Madison & Park Avenues and we could afford it because, … Continue reading →

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Fruit

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

(Story from Freeze Tag.)    L & S was a candy store and newsstand located on the corner of 60th St. and 18th Ave.  L & S, which stood for Louie & Son, was owned by Louie Varinella: a burly, slightly … Continue reading →

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Gravity Girls

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from Raking the Dust.) It was some time later, back at the drink rail, when I heard—Hey Spider-Man—and felt a hand press down on my shoulder. I turned around and there was Jose, his eyes a couple of pinkish slits … Continue reading →

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Portense

Posted on May 18, 2018 by John Biscello

By fever, and sappy resin, proof positive that bodies, in thorny solder, invent new ways for souls to portend and commit arson.    

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