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Monthly Archives: January 2018
Venetian Noir
Venetian Noir. Because every writer needs at least one identity crisis and an alter ego to match.
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged alter ego, John Biscello, mask, storyteller, the writing life 2018, trenchcoat, venetian noir, writer
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Ben Franklin 5.0
When a nation becomes a paid advertisement for itself founding fathers turn over in their graves which they share with the ghosts of slaves whose chains they inherited on karmic loan.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged ben franklin, constitution, founding fathers, government, John Biscello, nation, patriotism, poem, slaves, united states
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Fathers and Sons
I see and hear throughout dinner, how my father so desperately wants to impress my grandfather, wants to be applauded by him, recognized, seen. My father bulldozes in with his own stories. About having met and become friends with … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged atlantic city, dinner, dysfunction, family, father, grandfather, John Biscello, love, men, no man's brooklyn, novel, son, story
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Recording Live
I understand that I am not only with my father and grandfather and Marie as family, but also as a writer. I am sketching them. The mechanical hand in my mind that never stops is charting and sketching and … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged Brooklyn, creative process, family, John Biscello, no man's brooklyn, novel, Prose, recording, storytelling, the writing life 2018, words, writing
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Atlantic City
We check into the Trop, where my grandfather and his wife are also staying. My father calls my grandfather and we make plans to meet for dinner at 5 at one of the restaurants. When he gets off the … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged atlantic city, Brooklyn, drinking, family, father, gambling, hotel, John Biscello, son, story
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Unlearned
We are God’s longing to know herself on intimate, unfettered terms, human to the radiant touch and tenderest basking, infinitely unlearned.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged bask, devotion, expression, God, intimacy, John Biscello, love, poem, praise, tender, unlearned
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Disability
Receiving disability was another gold ticket ambition of many of the men in my neighborhood. Years ago, my father had lucked into this fortune by hurting his back while working and had been able to parlay that into a ceaseless … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, disabiliity, John Biscello, leisure, novel, Prose, reality, story, working class
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Narcissus: a Haiku Break-Up
It’s not really me, but more, well, I suppose you: nothing personal.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged break-up, comedy, haiku, John Biscello, love, myth, narcissism, Narcissus, Poetry, romance, tragedy
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Reckoning
I realized that there may never come a reckoning that equated to a clean or true do-over. And what was it I wanted to break from? Was it the past, was it a worn and outdated mode of self that … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged fiction, John Biscello, Light, Prose, rechoning, self-expression, shadow, story, storytelling, the writing life
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Grandmother
She was short, a spud of a woman, who in the summer looked like an overbaked potato. Her hair was a mushroom-cap, a helmet-poof petrified by copious amounts of Aqua Net hairspray. My grandmother was sweet, exceptionally sensitive, … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged Brooklyn, elder, family, grandmother, grandson, Italian-American, John Biscello, love, matriarch, Prose, story, the writing life
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John Biscello 