Category Archives: Prose

The Natashas

Review of Yelena Moskovich’s debut novel The Natashas. “You enter a dark, deserted warehouse on the waterfront. One that smells of cats and kerosene, and whose walls are covered with dusty calendars from bygone eras. Or perhaps you find yourself … Continue reading

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Candles for Henry Miller

Happy birthday, Henry Miller! “One’s destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.”–H. Miller Some men rattle their chains and wonder, some sing them. Then there are others who spraypaint their chains rainbow siege … Continue reading

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Nocturne’s Launch

So grateful for the gathering of people who became a part of the magical and inspired launch of Nocturne Variations, and in the gracelighted eternal words of the Little Prince: “What is essential is invisible to the eye, it is … Continue reading

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Boy and Girl

   I remember the time, Anya, when my mother asked about you and me. I was thirteen. My mother’s sickness was in its early stages. She had already turned the couch in the living-room into her sickbed. She hated lying … Continue reading

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Timeshare

It is scary once you realize that the past can be changed, and that the future is fixed, a rigged absolute. Knowing that changes everything. And what about the present? For some the present is intolerable cruelty, unimpeachable company. For … Continue reading

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Ghostfeed

It’s tough to always be in love with a ghost. Also it’s easy. The living don’t stand a chance against ghosts. In loving ghosts there are no real complications, no real disappointments, no real anything. There’s lots of teething on … Continue reading

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Anya Rising

Except from No Man’s Brooklyn:    I see her rising off the bathroom tiles, toes pointing downward.    I know this is a dream but I also know this actually happened, once, a long time ago.    Except then Anya … Continue reading

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Review of Nocturne

Johanna Debiase’s review of Nocturne Variations, appearing in the Taos News. “John Biscello’s newest novel, Nocturne Variations, is exactly what the title promises, a dreamy narrative landscape bursting with a lyrical kaleidoscope of sights, sounds and perspectives. The reader is … Continue reading

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Promontory

I, perched on a craggy promontory overlooking my childhood, and its entire formless geography, saw them, my friends, all of them: a mutant strain of cryogeny, a mummified quivering changelessness, as if youth hadn’t been lived through but pickled. It … Continue reading

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Distance

 People have called it the glow, the click, the hum, and for every abnormal drinker, for every addict, you are willing trade in everything for what amounts to a rigged facsimile of eternity. It is the sort of false eternity … Continue reading

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