Tag Archives: John Biscello

Digging for Air

Posted on June 11, 2017 by John Biscello

There was always plenty of tomorrow-talk, bright ribbons of noise amounting to nothing. What we would do, where we would go, how we’d become this or that. We erected fragile monuments to ourselves, and expected others to pay their respects, … Continue reading →

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Childhood’s End?

Posted on June 11, 2017 by John Biscello

Childhood, as a static port or fixed constellation, remains an ongoing historical fiction, in which small deaths, consigned to witnesses, inevitably breed the shadows of regeneration.

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Garden

Posted on June 11, 2017 by John Biscello

In seeding the bones fragile means to nuptial growth among mortal remains.

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Birth of a Prologue

Posted on June 9, 2017 by John Biscello

   They say you can’t go home again. I don’t know who “they” are, but apparently this mysterious phantom collective is well-stocked in facts, aphorisms and guidelines.    I was going home again, to Brooklyn, though the notion of return, … Continue reading →

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Men Without Women

Posted on June 6, 2017 by John Biscello

Review of Haruki Murakami’s Men Without Women appearing in Riot Material. “Men Without Women, a title borrowed from Hemingway’s 1927 collection of stories, bears ancestral resemblance to the shorter work of Hemingway sans the masculine mettle and tough-guy stoicism. Murakami’s … Continue reading →

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Samsa in Transit

Posted on June 1, 2017 by John Biscello

It had been one of those nights, but still, the stairs were unexpected. The bug, formerly known as Gregor Samsa, scuttled to the eroded edge of a step bleached by white-hot light, and he considered the view, the ascent, the blue-dark, … Continue reading →

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Crossing

Posted on June 1, 2017 by John Biscello

The solitary spectral figure gliding smoothly across the plane of sea, validated the woman’s faith in her blunt decision to leave off, unfinished, far from the unlit days of a life unsown.

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Valentine

Posted on June 1, 2017 by John Biscello

At the fringes of his bucket list, on his very last pour, he honored the small bright birds buried in his heart for his first love, his ailing mom, who, in her fading twilight, could tenderly absorb the valentine immortalized … Continue reading →

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Existential Makeover

Posted on June 1, 2017 by John Biscello

Between Bardo realms, he found John Cage composing birth sonatas to the cellular din of Dalmatians squabbling with  Rorschach supermodels.

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Autumn in New York (Remix)

Posted on May 31, 2017 by John Biscello

On the day October exploded over the city, an entire month spilling its guts to the grafitti of mass agitation, the trains stopped running, streets went dark, hobgoblins rose to the occasion, as did cryptic totems and obelisks which suddenly … Continue reading →

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