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.

Soft Focus

Posted on February 27, 2018 by John Biscello

After the fall, and subsequent radiant slumber, the child awoke to find the new world awash in lullaby, and dream-soft slips of focus.   (Photo by Heather Ross)

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Scarecrow

Posted on February 27, 2018 by John Biscello

Sometimes, the inner life of the Scarecrow is modeled on a park bench, where a glyphic repose of crowblack trees levels his brood to mortal dismay in a wizardless world.   (Photo by Diane Arbus)

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Fairy Tale

Posted on February 27, 2018 by John Biscello

It is the other stepsister, the disinherited one, known only as The Vamp, who played dark foil to Cinderella’s happiness, when she seduced and blackmailed the Prince, ignited a calculated run of scandals, and forced Cinderella to yield the glass … Continue reading →

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Poolside

Posted on February 27, 2018 by John Biscello

The water listened to the girl disappear and hissed. It was a warning that no one should try and follow her, every last fragment now belonged to incalculable depths. She was safe from trespass and further fracturing.     (Photo … Continue reading →

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Paper Trail

Posted on February 26, 2018 by John Biscello

Completed draft of my new novel, No Man’s Brooklyn. A return to childhood, to the source of ghosts, to Brooklyn roots.

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Sublime

Posted on February 24, 2018 by John Biscello

The mouth, birthing a migrant kiss, begs gravity’s pardon in raising lips to a sublime arc.

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Indelible

Posted on February 24, 2018 by John Biscello

To ebb, the startling clarity of a stolen kiss sentenced to null and ghost, to lips indelibly parted then closed.

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Enclosure

Posted on February 24, 2018 by John Biscello

Sometimes, it is just a marginal thatch of shadow slivering a cheek, or the rounded vowel of dimple puckering brazenly a bare knee, or the laser surgery performed on my small, fearful history, by a stray, smoldering gaze, it could … Continue reading →

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Bonepick

Posted on February 24, 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 what I tell … Continue reading →

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Soma

Posted on February 24, 2018 by John Biscello

It is, at winter’s finite edge, that we glean the bent, palsied bloom, somatic in its turn toward Spring’s inevitable host.  

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