Author Archives: John Biscello

Unknown's avatar

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.

Venetian Noir

Venetian Noir. Because every writer needs at least one identity crisis and an alter ego to match.

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Ben Franklin 5.0

When a nation becomes a paid advertisement for itself founding fathers turn over in their graves which they share with the ghosts of slaves whose chains they inherited on karmic loan.  

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fathers and Sons

   I see and hear throughout dinner, how my father so desperately wants to impress my grandfather, wants to be applauded by him, recognized, seen. My father bulldozes in with his own stories. About having met and become friends with … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Recording Live

   I understand that I am not only with my father and grandfather and Marie 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 … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Atlantic City

   We check into the Trop, where my grandfather and his wife are also staying. My father calls my grandfather and we make plans to meet for dinner at 5 at one of the restaurants. When he gets off the … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Unlearned

We are God’s longing to know herself on intimate, unfettered terms, human to the radiant touch and tenderest basking, infinitely unlearned.  

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Disability

Receiving disability was another gold ticket ambition of many of the men in my neighborhood. Years ago, my father had lucked into this fortune by hurting his back while working and had been able to parlay that into a ceaseless … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Narcissus: a Haiku Break-Up

It’s not really me, but more, well, I suppose you: nothing personal.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Reckoning

I realized that there may never come a reckoning that equated to a clean or true do-over. And what was it I wanted to break from? Was it the past, was it a worn and outdated mode of self that … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Grandmother

   She was short, a spud of a woman, who in the summer looked like an overbaked potato.    Her hair was a mushroom-cap, a helmet-poof petrified by copious amounts of Aqua Net hairspray. My grandmother was sweet, exceptionally sensitive, … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment