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.

Seasons of the Mask

Posted on October 7, 2026 by John Biscello

The mask lifted. Autumn lisped. Lost, and lisping about a mausoleum of hours, days. It was a dry Marienbaddish summer. Which gave way to fall. You have to imagine it giving way: Summer, holding up its illustrious red velvet cape, … Continue reading →

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

Dreamer’s Cheat Code

Posted on October 7, 2026 by John Biscello

A. I sit down at my desk and wonder about placeless places, non-specific locations, the Dreamer dreaming me … it is a way to pass the time. If time were passing, could be passed, over or under, this would be … Continue reading →

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

Ineffably Yours

Posted on October 7, 2026 by John Biscello

There’s something seductive about a poem lending itself to the ineffable. Ineffable as in the fathomless and mysterious. Ineffable as in unfuckable. You could say the fathomless is unfuckable. Yet the cosmos is shapely and noir, so I succumb to … Continue reading →

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

Stitch

Posted on October 7, 2026 by John Biscello

You are but a thought a stitch in a dream the interstice between breaths Okay, then, if I accept and embrace my interstitial stitchiness, then why this consuming need and hunger to discover who’s dreaming me? Why can’t I just … Continue reading →

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

Melodramatic Reel

Posted on October 7, 2026 by John Biscello

Let’s start with the photo, the comic melodrama in which you, perfectly staged, are wearing a blue pinafore dress, your dark hair gagged in pigtails, mouth heavily lipsticked, cheeks cherubically rouged, your eyes two flashing ovals of abyss-pooling licorice, sweat … Continue reading →

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

Screen Test

Posted on October 7, 2026 by John Biscello

If cinema is a tomb, then let us die watching. The angel over my shoulder is hunched, opaque, morphing. None of us ever leave behind the darkened theater. We are here, always. Sanctuary, haven, enclave, respite, sitting tight and homey … Continue reading →

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

Genre-Bending

Posted on October 7, 2026 by John Biscello

Historyless is where I come from, the sun-crotched navel, the part of me not yet born, the part of me dead to the world on its way to being born into the potholes and foothills of unimagined fictions. Fiction or … Continue reading →

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

Chelsea Hotel #3

Posted on October 7, 2026 by John Biscello

We Are Ugly But We Have the Music. This is our title, our collective moniker, our flagless flag, denominating no allegiances, no cultural attachments, no geo-political persuasions. None of that. We dwell underground, or to be more accurate, the underground … Continue reading →

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

Titanic

Posted on October 6, 2026 by John Biscello

If there were two, then let us say there were two. The two danced on the time-haunted deck of the Titanic, they called it the Titanic because they understood the floor beneath their feet was not to be trusted, nor … Continue reading →

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

Pandora

Posted on October 6, 2026 by John Biscello

I won’t call this a book because no one reads books anymore, no one gives two shits and a dime about books. I’ll call this an exalted and long overdue mania, a catalytic inversion, a freebase purge. Whatever, whatever. Voyeurs … Continue reading →

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