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.

Altar Piece

We are the stunning brides of tomorrow, dressing up for ritual matrimony in an airless church where children laugh and hurl gulls of rice, and the candles, matching light to symmetry, never go out.

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Eye Test

Within the eye of the volatility of metamorphosis, a shuttering, and sacral budding, that speaks in tongues to the fragile wonder of age-new revelations, respiring.

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Something Twisted This Way Comes

I was asked to create a customized review list for Shepherd.com, whose goal is to “create an experience like wandering around your favorite bookstore but reimagined fot the online world.” The following is my list: The best books in which mystery … Continue reading

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Monkeys and Barrels

None of it was going anywhere. It had been a while. Both things were true. Both could be beginnings. So let’s go with both: None of it was going anywhere. It had been a while. I felt like a dehydrated … Continue reading

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Rainy Day Woman

When Lucy left the café, I saw her open her umbrella before stepping out into the rain. Her umbrella was red. Her long wool coat was black. These colors, as harmony, stitched together by the rain, echoed within me for … Continue reading

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Come Wander With Me

Through grotesquely chapped lips, Bert whistled a bright tune, and managed to keep whistling with melodious tenacity as he and George walked.What’s that tune?I don’t know. Something I heard a long time ago.It’s nice Bert real nice. And the fact … Continue reading

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This is No Ism of Any Kind

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Giantess

Between bewildered, and the wildest seasons of time and longing, she derived dreamily the spatial pulse of God’s somnolent core.

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Stars

To glean, unerringly,the ripe maternal geniusof soil,she took lucid stockof her originsas a glamorous peasantfrom the cursive fiestaof stars–Words, as sacrosanct bond,became her,if only to negligeethe remote and hidden contoursof her fable unending.

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Fleur de Lis

This world,beyond this world,splitting into festive atoms,called upon this woman,beyond this woman,to air with no discretionthe favored breathof blue rosesfalling.

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