Tag Archives: family

They Are Their Own

Posted on December 5, 2017 by John Biscello

Do you know where your children are? Or rather who, in their ripening pedigree and new language they are in the process of becoming? Make no mistake They are not nor have they ever been yours belonging infinitely to the … Continue reading →

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Touch

Posted on October 22, 2017 by John Biscello

Child, unbelonging, warms herself with near voices– next best thing to touch.

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Death of a Super Hero

Posted on October 4, 2017 by John Biscello

   I was six when I found out I’d never become a super-hero.    We were in the kitchen. Me, my mother, my father.    My father’s hand was around my mother’s throat. He had a wild, bloodshot, not-there look … Continue reading →

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Vintage

Posted on August 14, 2017 by John Biscello

Brooklyn, 1957, shotgun postcard glory and grain of bygone, brick-backed, bathing-capped great aunts I never knew, Josie and Anna-Mae, sirens modeling sass and moxie on a hot summer’s day before the sun went down.

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Six

Posted on July 9, 2017 by John Biscello

   I was six when I found out I’d never become a super hero.    We were in the kitchen. Me, my mother and father. My father’s hand was around my mother’s throat. He had a wild, bloodshot, not-there look … Continue reading →

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No Man’s Brooklyn

Posted on June 14, 2017 by John Biscello

I have started working on my new novel: No Man’s Brooklyn.  A return to the bones of childhood, and to tangled roots. A return to the gritty lore of Bensonhurst.  

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Cakewalk

Posted on May 24, 2017 by John Biscello

The day the plastic bride and groom came to life and climbed down from their three-tier wedding cake, tracking footprints of vanilla frost onto the carpet of the living room, which came with a matching couch and recliner, floral-print curtains, an … Continue reading →

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1923

Posted on March 20, 2017 by John Biscello

   In the black and white photo, 1923 written in faded pencil in the lower left hand corner, neatly scalloped perforations along the borders—my grandmother and her sister, Rose, are standing on the beach.  Coney Island.  In the background the … Continue reading →

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My Sister

Posted on February 11, 2017 by John Biscello

   My sister and I are bonded in that we were in the trenches together. In the battle-zone that was our household, we were witnesses to and casualties of the same war.    I am six years older than my … Continue reading →

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My Mother

Posted on February 11, 2017 by John Biscello

   My mother had had a hard life. There have been many challenges, many obstacles, and in a sense you could trace their origins back to her father, her rapist.    When your father is also your rapist your childhood … Continue reading →

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