Category Archives: Prose

Street Corner

Posted on February 8, 2017 by John Biscello

   It was a vicious arena, gladiator combat conducted with tongues.    To survive on a Brooklyn street corner you needed you needed to be quick on the verbal draw. It was easy, always on the defensive, one’s metaphysical position … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Glow

Posted on February 8, 2017 by John Biscello

   The coke parties were my favorite. It was when everyone was happiest. Everyone meant my father, my mother, and their friends, Teddy and Debby. Occasionally, Debby’s brother, Wayne,  was part of everyone.    My mother would say—Teddy and Debby … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Tali’s

Posted on February 5, 2017 by John Biscello

   It was a thing. Every Tuesday night at around 7 or 8, the black Cadillac Sedan would pull up in front of Tali’s bar, and the driver would hustle around to the other side of the car, open the … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Seeker

Posted on February 4, 2017 by John Biscello

   Ready or not, here I come.    I can still hear my voice, calling out, a bright echo in an archival loop.    Hide and seek was a game we used to play all the time.    At my … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Miss Roach

Posted on February 4, 2017 by John Biscello

    Kenny named her Miss Roach. He named her that because of the stiletto heels she always wore.    Look at them—he’d always point at the heels first, as if she were an extension of the heels and not … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Tracy

Posted on February 3, 2017 by John Biscello

   I won’t say Tracy was the first girl I ever fell in love with, but she was definitely my first obsession. I was sixteen at the time, she was fifteen.    She was a friend of my friend, Camille, … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Bones & the Blue

Posted on February 3, 2017 by John Biscello

My uncle was a full blown junkie. He was rail-thin, a mongrel with no bite. I liked hanging out with him. He had a sweetness and gentleness to him. He was a soft whisper whereas my father was a volcanic … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

My Unreal Family

Posted on February 3, 2017 by John Biscello

   At times I feel like I invented them, along with the rest of my childhood. Which, in a sense, I suppose I have. They are who they are they are, regardless of my perceptions and analysis, yet  I have, … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Broken Land

Posted on January 31, 2017 by John Biscello

Print edition of my first novel, Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale has been re-released. ABOUT: A spectral, existential noir set against the aging irons of Coney Island and old guard lions of hip hop and silent film, Broken Land, a Brooklyn … Continue reading →

Posted in Books, Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Time of the Assassins

Posted on January 25, 2017 by John Biscello

Review of Henry Miller’s study on Arthur Rimbaud, The Time of the Assassins, appearing in Riot Material. “Published in 1956, when atomic anxiety and McCarthy-led witch-hunts were all the rage, Miller’s book functions on multiple levels. It is a meditative essay … Continue reading →

Posted in Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment