Tag Archives: mother

Torch Song

Posted on May 24, 2018 by John Biscello

Nature does not express opinions, she asserts herself with whatever force is necessary to explode the billion screaming hearts tendered from her wellsprung artistry. Nature does not engage in philosophy or debates, she, unbridled, the husbandless pagan, teems and throbs … Continue reading →

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Daughter, Mother

Posted on May 12, 2018 by John Biscello

Mother, without your touch, blood-lush access to eternity’s grasp, I am rudderless, and adrift, in a world that shits on innocence. ………………………………….. Daughter, without you to hold, a promise illumined into love’s totem, I am sunless, and moonless, a stray … Continue reading →

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Free Range

Posted on March 27, 2018 by John Biscello

Nesting, she brooded on the future of free range– No claims to hold her.   (Artwork by Izumi Yokoyama)

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Mercy

Posted on March 18, 2018 by John Biscello

Always a mother, always gentle enclosure– Between palms, mercy.

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Valentine

Posted on February 15, 2018 by John Biscello

Our Lady of Eternal Valentines, forever bestowing tenderest mercy and heart-shaped harbor to the world’s sorrowful lot.

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Gravesite

Posted on February 13, 2018 by John Biscello

  My father and I visited my mother’s grave. Nothing about it felt profound or moving. It felt like a prescribed exercise in courtesy, a bland ritual.    One thing that gave it a dramatic feel: it was raining.     … Continue reading →

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Grandfather

Posted on January 21, 2018 by John Biscello

   The only time I had ever seen my grandfather cry was also the first time I had ever seen an adult blatantly lose touch with reality. His first wife, my grandmother, Angelina, had died when I was five. She … Continue reading →

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House of Incest

Posted on January 8, 2018 by John Biscello

Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress.    Toward the end my mother began to open up. Of course I didn’t know the end was coming, nor did my father.    My mother, during the last several months, had become a … Continue reading →

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Peter Pan’s Jesus Complex

Posted on January 4, 2018 by John Biscello

Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress.    I remember the time, Anya, when my mother asked about you and me. I was thirteen. My mother’s sickness was in its early stages. She had already turned the couch in the livingroom … Continue reading →

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Mary

Posted on December 7, 2017 by John Biscello

      It was a scorcher. One of those ovenbake summer days where you feel like you’re huffing fur.    I had decided to take a stroll around the neighborhood, and re-acclimate myself.    As I walked down the block … Continue reading →

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