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Monthly Archives: November 2018
Cabinet
A white room. Like burnished ivory, like karmic burden. Cut to a close-up on the back of a shaved head and neck. Several scars are visible on the back of the head. Cut to a medium distance shot, in which … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged film, John Biscello, karmic burden, script, trauma, white death
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Animal Crackers
Sunny afternoon. A town square. In the middle of the town square a burlap sack covering someone, or something. A crowd gathered around the sack. MAN #1 Do you know who he belonged to? WOMAN #1 We don’t know that … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized
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State of Address
A salon. After hours. Dimly lit. We see a red styling chair. Behind it are a counter and a wide mounted mirror. In the right upper-corner of the frame there are dismembered mannequins set against a wall. The salon OWNER, … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged abraham lincoln, america, blowjob, film, haircut, John Biscello, salon
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All the Young Joans
Afternoon in a park. Wide shot of charred patches of grass. Cut to a hand, in a fingerless glove, reaching down to touch the grass. Cut to teenage girl, JOAN #1, kneeling, her fingers moving through the grass. Her friend, … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged film, girls, joan of arc-angels, John Biscello, script, suicide sunday
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Street Song
Screen black. Sounds of traffic. Fade in to city street at night. Cut to traffic lamp turning green to red. Cut to other shots of the city at night. Cut to a MERMAID, lying in the middle of a street … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged city, film, John Biscello, loss, love song, mermaid, script
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In the Belly Of
In the softest pit of my belly, the masticating angel, the glowing renegade with milkbone teeth, eats me alive, and spits me back out into the world, half-light, half-silence, the happy miscarriage of identity winnowing the essential me from I.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged angel, eaten alive, I is another, identity, John Biscello, Light, rebirth
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Lure
He had traveled many crooked side-streets and shadow-scripted back-alleys to arrive at this point. The white-hot lure and bait of the angel, who had played hard to get, beckoned, with an ineffable wink.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged alley, angel, John Biscello, New York, noir, shadows
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Destiny
One of those windows ws about to change his life forever. Now it was simply a matter of ascent, and guessing right.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged anthony distefano, John Biscello, New York, noir, skyscrapers, windows
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Geist
Memory, like stone tapes, like hardened slabs of analog recalling the icy geist of my childhood in a Brooklyn basement, revisited.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged anthony distefano, basement, Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, childhood, John Biscello, memory, photo
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Neo-Noir
It would be the last time, the last thinning whatever– halfmoon fingernails scratching famished odds, unreflected, into a dirty, cracking mirror.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged anthony distefano, Greenwich Village, homecoming, John Biscello, New York, noir
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John Biscello 