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.

The Last Word

Posted on December 9, 2025 by John Biscello

It was a treat getting to chat with Carly Newfeld on the Last Word podcast (KSFR, Santa Fe Public Radio), as we talked about wild mind, inspiration, the richness of solitude and silence, and my new novel, The Last Furies, … Continue reading →

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Dark Matter

Posted on December 4, 2025 by John Biscello

A story from out of the dark. First there was one voice, followed by a second voice … the dark twists itself into shapes and semblances. The dark is the clothing our ghosts wear. I have tried to acquaint myself … Continue reading →

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Talisman

Posted on December 4, 2025 by John Biscello

Wordwise, edges and ledges: we are falling off. We, as in word-wielding also world-wearied, we, an endangered species, parrots with branded larynxes … falling off. Ask a stranger to cup your balls (male or female you, no matter) as you … Continue reading →

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Intimate Measures

Posted on December 3, 2025 by John Biscello

It is a lonely road. The road made of words. The words stay put. The feelings don’t. The words crystallize, become the flambed edges of something soft in the center. It is a struggle within, and a turn-on, mud-wrestling false … Continue reading →

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Epilogue

Posted on December 3, 2025 by John Biscello

We are ghosts haunting our own lives, understanding on the deepest level that there is no beginning and no end. Because we know that, or in spite of knowing that, we wander, we stalk, we pursue. We give names and … Continue reading →

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(sic)

Posted on December 3, 2025 by John Biscello

   She compiled what they called obscure texts into what was then labeled an obscure book. She was vilified. To be obscure, to be knowingly obscure, was, as they saw it, was a veiled threat to innocence and an assault … Continue reading →

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Lip Service

Posted on December 3, 2025 by John Biscello

There are the words on the lips of God, nodes and fables of the Unsayable, but Godlike lips have been hyper-inflated with collagen, have been altered and impaired by simulation and synthetic progress. God’s lips have been grossly fattened, blubbery … Continue reading →

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Room

Posted on December 2, 2025 by John Biscello

   She was an avid writer of obscure texts. Her obscure texts, which related to identity, language and alienation, rendered the topics as and through compound fractures. She adopted the brokenness and mirrored it obscurely in brokenness. Self/reflecting through heretical … Continue reading →

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Horizon

Posted on December 2, 2025 by John Biscello

Longing’s end goal is itself, though it will never admit that. To admit that would strip Longing of its impetus and bait, would render it flatfooted in its futile race against time. Longing is habitually wired to attach its fevers … Continue reading →

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Homesickness

Posted on December 2, 2025 by John Biscello

   What is that feeling?    Allow me to cite certain examples which attempt, in vain, to touch upon the vagaries of that sensation, that feeling. It is like longing to be at home when you are already at home. … Continue reading →

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