Author Archives: John Biscello

Unknown's avatar

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.

Theme for a High School Dance

Posted on January 15, 2025 by John Biscello
Posted in Audio, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Lives in the Day Of

Posted on January 13, 2025 by John Biscello

One of my recent projects has been compiling stories and flash fiction into a collection titled: Lives in the Day Of. After selection, rewriting, and editing, the collection comprises twenty-two pieces, spanning the past fifteen years. Some of these works … Continue reading →

Posted in Books, photography, Poetry, Prose, Publications | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Brooklyn Spleen

Posted on November 21, 2024 by John Biscello

We didn’t talk about it, but we knew we’d never amount to anything, no matter what we did. No matter how celebrated the accomplishment, no matter how big the fiction and the audience buying it, nothing could ever fill those … Continue reading →

Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose, Publications | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

The Last of the Coojettes

Posted on November 21, 2024 by John Biscello

She was the Last of the Coojettes. That’s what Rob called her. Rob was my mother’s cousin. My father’s nickname for Rob was The Moron. Rob worked as a postman. My father worked as a truck driver for Budweiser. Rob … Continue reading →

Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nobody’s on Second

Posted on November 20, 2024 by John Biscello

She told me I was crazy. It would be like taking out a restraining order against your shadow to stop it from following you. Then, Edie deepened her voice with judicial authority, and decreed: Shadow, you have been court-ordered to … Continue reading →

Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Death Rides in on a Pony

Posted on November 20, 2024 by John Biscello

When Death showed up on a broken-down pony, I scoffed. This, really? What, Death said, looking around, unsure as to who or what I was referring. You’re Death, right? Yes. THE Death? You can check my I.D. And you’ve come … Continue reading →

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

New York Story

Posted on November 19, 2024 by John Biscello

When the bird hit me in the side of head, I had no idea what had happened. It felt like someone had blindsided me with a loaded handbag. I clutched at air and went down immediately. I didn’t feel any … Continue reading →

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

Outtake

Posted on November 19, 2024 by John Biscello

I saw the sign in the window: Lessons Learned/Karma Burned. I went inside. The studio reeked of frankincense. And cotton candy. Greeting me at the door, as if she had been waiting for me, was a tall, well-toned woman in … Continue reading →

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

Focal Points

Posted on November 19, 2024 by John Biscello

Deep focus in film, as in the depth of a shot, creating dimensional layers. What about deep focus when one points the camera towards the interior? Not just the surface level of interest or engagement, or the foreground, but a … Continue reading →

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

Theme for a High School Dance

Posted on November 18, 2024 by John Biscello

There is a rumor that Laura Palmer is going to be at the dance. While you don’t know her personally, all you can think about is the exquisite mystique of her televised corpse, and how her voice, on a karmic … Continue reading →

Posted in Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment