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.

Green Dark

Posted on February 8, 2024 by John Biscello

We enter forests at the liminal risk of time lost to the vagrancies of dreaming and silence of choir— Engendered by echoes and bated tense we move on at the mercy of mirrorless haunt.

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Love and Death

Posted on February 8, 2024 by John Biscello

The branch of the tree reaching down. It reaches down to graze the time-scarred headstone, to caress it. Could this be … a secret love story, a love story with no history, or with a cortege of history, spanning many … Continue reading →

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Visitation Rites

Posted on February 7, 2024 by John Biscello

Metaphors underscore every moment of passage. For example, we, being guests upon this earth but briefly, solidly imagined as entities before dissolving into blurs, en route to fading, among the gusty corteges of transit.

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Rabbit Season

Posted on February 7, 2024 by John Biscello

The love hotel under the overcast afternoon sky. Thick mottled clouds. Two rabbits perched on a crescent moon, backs turned to the viewer. Earth and sky mixed, how lust has room for all seasons. The love hotel is about 100 … Continue reading →

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Passage

Posted on February 7, 2024 by John Biscello

Empty streets beckon to breed favored solitude among vagrant dreams.

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Wanderland

Posted on February 7, 2024 by John Biscello

There is no journey. Only myths in which we fit our lust to wander.

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Footnotes

Posted on February 7, 2024 by John Biscello

Streets, vivid in character, and seeded in the calming lore of desolation and subtext, train the wanderer’s interest to stop, notice, gaze deeply at or into causes warming us to the effects through which we marvel, lost, at curiously intimate … Continue reading →

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Time, Travel

Posted on February 7, 2024 by John Biscello

The boy sat on the train that would take him to the station where he would catch the train that would take him to the airport where he would be lifted away from everything he had been dreaming in real-time. … Continue reading →

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Gloaming

Posted on February 7, 2024 by John Biscello

At twilight, the softly paling into summer plum sky, sliver of moon suspended like a bone-white boomerang in the distance, narrow street courting its void with dignity— What kind of dream is this, which reminds you there is nothing to … Continue reading →

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Jizo and the Lost Children

Posted on February 5, 2024 by John Biscello

They were everywhere in the woods. Clustered in hidden batches, concealed, unseen or barely peeking out from foliage or grass, the verdant estate of jizos, some whose faces had been worn away by the elements, others with shadows and hints … Continue reading →

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