Tag Archives: Literary

Extra, Extra

Posted on August 13, 2017 by John Biscello

The hidden newsprint of the universe and its unreported sorrows carried on the shoulders and in the heart of a young woman on a bike who pedals with furious intent between blurred and urgent breaks of line.

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged art, girl, John Biscello, Literary, Loui Jover, newspaper, poem, Poetry, print, truth | Leave a comment

Citrus

Posted on July 23, 2017 by John Biscello

Upon a citrus-infused sky, bright and sorry, the dance of acidic vapors and serpentine ravels, assuming the burden of a faceless woman, basking

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged Artwork, citrus, ekphrasis, Georgia O' Keefe, John Biscello, Literary, poem, Poetry | Leave a comment

Touch

Posted on July 20, 2017 by John Biscello

It is the quiet history of touch, tendered through years of symmetry and fable, a radiant pulsing in the spaces between fingers, holy derived, charging us to mercy and enclosure.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged fable, gospel, John Biscello, Literary, love, ouch, poem, Poetry | Leave a comment

Golem

Posted on July 20, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from Nocturne Variations: I think, the bottom line, Piers, is that one’s protector is or can become one’s destroyer. Angels are monsters in wait, same as monsters are angels awaiting transformative context. The two are one and to divide … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged golem, John Biscello, Literary, nocturne variations, novel, piers, Prose, shadow, shadow play, soul | Leave a comment

Arc

Posted on July 10, 2017 by John Biscello

Starstruck, and wrestling within mortal coils, God’s lucid fame overshadows the cast of our solitary arc.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged arc, God, John Biscello, Literary, poem, Poetry | 2 Comments

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 →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged bones, family, father, John Biscello, Literary, mother, no man's brooklyn, Prose, story | Leave a comment

Flint

Posted on July 7, 2017 by John Biscello

I also saw Anya on that trip, though our meeting was unplanned. I was on the subway platform waiting for the train when I spotted a thin girl in torn jeans and a bright green tank-top walking in my … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged addiction, anya, boy, Brooklyn, girl, John Biscello, Literary, loss, Prose | Leave a comment

Second-Hand

Posted on July 7, 2017 by John Biscello

We, as time-worn saboteurs, engage the history of scabs and locks, resetting old wounds to the hands of a busted clock.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged John Biscello, Literary, poem, Poetry, time, wounds | Leave a comment

Wish You Were Here

Posted on July 6, 2017 by John Biscello

Send us postcards from your loneliest places, your fault-lines and secret rivets, send us words and we promise not to burn them, we promise that something of the ineffable will stick, as if a lasting thorn in God’s bruised paw.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged God, John Biscello, Literary, poem, Poetry, postcard, wish you were here | Leave a comment

The Killers at Red’s

Posted on July 6, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from Nocturne Variations appearing in Riot Material. Joe pushed open the door and a bell sang. Max followed Joe into Red’s. The men’s dark hats and trenchcoats were beaded in snow. Joe took off his hat and waved it … Continue reading →

Posted in Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized | Tagged book, diner, Hemingway, John Biscello, Literary, nocturne variations, noir, novel, riot material, story, the killers | Leave a comment