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.

Existential Makeover

Posted on June 1, 2017 by John Biscello

Between Bardo realms, he found John Cage composing birth sonatas to the cellular din of Dalmatians squabbling with  Rorschach supermodels.

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Autumn in New York (Remix)

Posted on May 31, 2017 by John Biscello

On the day October exploded over the city, an entire month spilling its guts to the grafitti of mass agitation, the trains stopped running, streets went dark, hobgoblins rose to the occasion, as did cryptic totems and obelisks which suddenly … Continue reading →

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Disquiet

Posted on May 31, 2017 by John Biscello

They, the profane muses, Laurel and Hardy at a voodoo head-shop, serve as pillared repositories for the lasting remains of mortal disquiet.

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The Young Nocturnes

Posted on May 31, 2017 by John Biscello

Los Angeles, late 80s, the club scene. Jenny, Kirstie, Amanda, Trink, and Connor: The Young Nocturnes. Glamboyant youth at the razor’s edge between waking and dreaming. Stay tuned.

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Girl

Posted on May 29, 2017 by John Biscello

Shrouded in white fire, barred from true exit, she, a marvelous and fearful shudder, is torn mysteriously from dreams rounded by the sleep of babes fitted to gallows.

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Summer Song

Posted on May 29, 2017 by John Biscello

At the edge of a remote island, (sirens in the distance) modeling jigsaw scars, cracked veins, and an oily sheen, a fast fade dream, a scorched mirage, occurs every evening like clockwork. Walter, jangling his bell, shouting: Good Humor Man, … Continue reading →

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Worn

Posted on May 28, 2017 by John Biscello

In transit, and in stillness, station by station, one chance moment out of a million and one lost, we see love, in a precious tangle, a flaccid melt, and we renew ourselves through the rumpled means of lives unmade to … Continue reading →

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Venus Infers

Posted on May 28, 2017 by John Biscello

Withholding, with intent, for so very  very long, the mouth like moth to flame engaged the key to its lock, while the eyes watched her lover, bearing the scripted burn, drop to his knees, modeling a biblical take on crush.

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Flashpoint

Posted on May 28, 2017 by John Biscello

By reign of pearls, a pin-up siren minding gravity to commemorate a slow-burn fade to mortal flash.  

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New York, New York

Posted on May 26, 2017 by John Biscello

The skyscraper quartet of ladies peaking eyecandy to airshow, arches a vintage and puckered valentine to a city in love with its meteoric rise and call.

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