Author Archives: John Biscello

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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.

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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Kiss/Sing

Posted on May 26, 2017 by John Biscello

It is the first and lasting kiss of breathless lovers archived in a recursive loop, the stripping of cinema to its barest flammable proof.

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The Last Laugh

Posted on May 26, 2017 by John Biscello

After having rejected him night after night, in what had become an agonized shtick and ritual of unrequited love, Colombine turned away  one last time, Pierrot’s parting gag performed for a backwoods audience of trees, grass, air, and a moon, … Continue reading →

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It-Girl

Posted on May 25, 2017 by John Biscello

Her shadow projected at higher volume then the radiance which enclosed her in a cast fit to bind.

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Blue

Posted on May 25, 2017 by John Biscello

They, without words, have agreed to model the sea, to mimic its waves by air, blue and heat, fasting symmetry with intent to respire and please.

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Flight Pattern

Posted on May 25, 2017 by John Biscello

He has peopled the world outside his window with decoys and delegates. They go where he cannot, they climb and scrabble and perch where he can only watch. The cage, you see, is more than just a symbolic prop. He … Continue reading →

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