Tag Archives: Literary

The Little Emperor

Posted on March 24, 2017 by John Biscello

(In memory of Anthony Hassett, and in response to his artwork) I have seen the Little Emperor— mischievous, unabashed, baiting in borrowed skin dong tolling through the marketplace offering his services for a nominal fee. He leads, without words, through … Continue reading →

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Pronoun, Singular

Posted on March 22, 2017 by John Biscello

I for an I, the faltering trade-in of an egotist contracting tunnels at the expense of light’s vented kiss.

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Busy Signal

Posted on March 22, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale: There’s not really a name for what I do.  I am not an investigative journalist, I am not a private eye.  I am not a minstrel essayist.  There are many things that I … 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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Princess Leia on the Rocks

Posted on March 19, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from “Stray Passages: My time in San Francisco lasted a little over a month and would have been even shorter if not for Diana.  I arrived and decided to check into a hostel in North Beach.  I picked North … 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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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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Lighted Window Syndrome

Posted on February 13, 2017 by John Biscello

   All my life I have had lighted window syndrome.    Being outside someone’s window at night, and seeing the lighted window, its warm amber glow was an invitation to feel a sense of home, not to be at home, … Continue reading →

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My Father

Posted on February 11, 2017 by John Biscello

My father was a tough guy. How tough, it’s hard to say. And when I say tough I mean it in the street-Brooklyn sort of way. Neighborhood-tough, man-tough, like that.    As I’ve grown older I’ve realized it’s much more … Continue reading →

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