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Tag Archives: fiction
Snapshot
(Excerpt from Raking the Dust) Seven years later, reflecting upon an analytical snapshot held up to the light: Thirty-three, unemployed, a boatload of debt, drinking excessively, divorcee, amateur plumber of shit-clogged pipe dreams—when I got my head stuck up my … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged Brooklyn, fiction, John Biscello, New York, novel, Prose, Raking the Dust, snapshot, story, Taos, writing life
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Slingshot
From a distance, within, the story of a writer’s life in the day of fiction’s living wake.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged distance, fiction, John Biscello, Literary, perspective, poem, Poetry, story, writer, writing life
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Reckoning
I realized that there may never come a reckoning that equated to a clean or true do-over. And what was it I wanted to break from? Was it the past, was it a worn and outdated mode of self that … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged fiction, John Biscello, Light, Prose, rechoning, self-expression, shadow, story, storytelling, the writing life
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Boneyard
Sometimes you have to walk through the boneyard, in order to reach the garden.
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged boneyard, dream, eden, fiction, garden, John Biscello, Prose, rebirth, spirit, story, writing life
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Monster
Fiction is a monster. It demands, it consumes. It is a glutton. Enough is never enough. It won’t be satisfied until the unreal becomes utterly real, beyond real. Its sole desire is to usurp reality, to surpass it. It basks … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged art, Brooklyn, fiction, fragment, John Biscello, novel, Prose, storytelling, writing, writing life
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Borscht and Seashells
Today I had lunch at Boris and Vera’s. Vera made Borscht. She remembered how I used to love to come down and eat Borscht. It always felt exotic to me. Anya hated Borscht. Which is why Vera appreciated my appreciation … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged anya, Borscht, Brooklyn, childhood, family, fiction, John Biscello, no man's brooklyn, ocean, Prose, seashells, story
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The Argument
Reality and me have disagreements all the time. Reality is, by nature, inviolable. And a bit of an existential bully. I am, by illicit union, a child of fiction. And tender in the center. Reality and me don’t always see … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged center, existence, fiction, grail, John Biscello, nature, poem, Poetry, reality, story, union
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Interiority Complex
Childhood is an ongoing historical fiction that changes based on who you are when you’re examining it. Who you are, in certain periods and chapters in your life, determines what you’re childhood is. Was would imply that childhood is fixed … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged childhood, dreams, family, fiction, history, interior, John Biscello, Prose, self-invention, story, storyteller
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