Category Archives: Uncategorized

Flea Circus

Posted on March 19, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from “Stray Passages” Greyhound: A sleek, streamlined, swift-as-the-wind breed of dog. A coughing, sputtering, wheezing, smoke-blowing mutt, prone to flea infestation.    I spent a great deal of my twenties canned inside the dank sweaty armpit of travel Americana: … Continue reading →

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Spleen

Posted on March 19, 2017 by John Biscello

   We didn’t talk about it, but we knew we’d never amount to anything, no matter what we did.    No matter how celebrated the accomplishment, no matter how big the lie and the audience buying it, nothing could ever … Continue reading →

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Memory Babe

Posted on March 12, 2017 by John Biscello

(In honor of Jack Kerouac’s birthday, March 12th, an excerpt from my Greyhound travelogue, “Stray Passages”)    I discovered Kerouac, by chance, when I was nineteen and as a wide-eyed babe greedily suckling Kerouac’s vision-engorged tit, that  which he had … Continue reading →

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Fruit

Posted on March 12, 2017 by John Biscello

   L & S was a candy store and newsstand located on the corner of 60th St. and 18th Ave.  L & S, which stood for Louie & Son, was owned by Louie Varinella: a burly, slightly balding man with … Continue reading →

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Howl II

Posted on March 12, 2017 by John Biscello

(Poem written in response to Joe Sorren’s “While the Trucks on the Highway All Howl”) While the trucks on the highway all howl, beneath a milk-bottle sky, Sunday’s children, curious and bulb-headed, lay vigorous claim to Paradise. Non-profit architects, they … Continue reading →

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Solvent

Posted on March 5, 2017 by John Biscello

Water, like a tempera of fog, buoying the natal intent, the fragile rapture, against which gravity sets an insoluble course.

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Double Exposure

Posted on March 5, 2017 by John Biscello

I. There is strange music in her head, a choir’s brew. You cannot see it but, in the bask of a sunchecked idle, she drifts beyond ordinary logic to dream of water like melted locks, like aquamarine flowers silk to … Continue reading →

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Morningbreak

Posted on March 3, 2017 by John Biscello

  I want to eat Anne Sexton for breakfast like toxic cereal like bacon fat like sunbursts of egg yolk swallowed whole and washed down with a glass of fire (then I will spit up the flames burning down the … Continue reading →

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Vivaldi in Love

Posted on March 2, 2017 by John Biscello

Spring, tender bud raising gravity in the center of a palm. Summer, drawn and quartered shafts of light mouthing the sea. Fall, fetal leaves curling in on themselves— inversion banking on faith. Winter, hospitable merger of bare limbs relishing arson … Continue reading →

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Cloud Nine

Posted on February 15, 2017 by John Biscello

Dylan Thomas falls from his barstool in Heaven— God, tending bar, picks him up, turns to Job—Who am I to judge?

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