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.

Story

Posted on October 9, 2022 by John Biscello

In the beginning the dreaming. not the word. the word came later. it came whenever and betrayed silence and this was the beginning of fiction. now you’ve got what passes for a world of dreaming and fiction and parallels became … Continue reading →

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Sonata

Posted on October 9, 2022 by John Biscello

Once upon a time     somebody didn’t scream (when they should have)     and this set them down the long twisting road to becoming one of the screamless. You must understand     there are screamless who still dream     then there are screamless undreaming      … Continue reading →

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of sound mind and body

Posted on October 9, 2022 by John Biscello

bones grinding on. bones grinding. light on light. light on bone on light grinding. give us this day our daily savvy. this how our bodies shape music. make music. no names attached. mapless and hungry and eligible for fractures. bones … Continue reading →

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Proof

Posted on October 7, 2022 by John Biscello

They say that in the beginning was the word but you weren’t given the true complete sentence— In the beginning was the word, betraying silence, and this became lighted proof of the beginning of fiction.

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In the Beginning, Fiction

Posted on October 7, 2022 by John Biscello

Now you say no more words but you don’t really mean no more words, these dreams of going wordless are playthings in the air, concepts without volition. You are compelled to use words to express what it would be like … Continue reading →

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Bathwater Blues

Posted on October 7, 2022 by John Biscello

Our destinies are molecular, uniformly bonded, an immaculately charged cluster fuck of singing clinging particles wedded to a liminal bubble bath … that is the beginning … we are not alone … we see god drop the soap, intentionally, perhaps … Continue reading →

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Hymnal

Posted on October 6, 2022 by John Biscello

On a molecular level, we are fucked. Perpetually, repeatedly, renewably. Fucked. The world is an unceasing orgy, everything touches everything, nonstop fondling and hymnal friction between pulsing meshes. Your very breath is a shore leave sailor and kissing cousin, a … Continue reading →

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Not in So Many Words

Posted on October 6, 2022 by John Biscello

On a molecular level, we are fucked. Perpetually, repeatedly, renewably. Fucked. The world is an unceasing orgy. Everything touches everything, nonstop fondling and incestuous friction between particles, the pulsing frisson of meshes. We are nets that hold nothing and touch … Continue reading →

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Splish Splash

Posted on October 5, 2022 by John Biscello

Our destinies are molecular an infinitely charged clusterfuck of singing particles wedded to a liminal bubblebath in which god drops the soap and slips under to retrieve it when she reemerges face caked in a frothy foam beard you laugh … Continue reading →

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Pulse

Posted on October 2, 2022 by John Biscello

Pulsing magnanimously, we run on, unfinished, the edges only rumors duly dispelled by the raptures of liminal motives.

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