Tag Archives: Prose

Chronicles

Posted on May 13, 2026 by John Biscello

What is it we’ve done? What is it you’ve done? Mark it down. Make an inventory of jottings that concretize and confirm your fleeting form of being. How did you wake? What was it like sleeping? These happenings these adventures … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Lost and Found

Posted on May 12, 2026 by John Biscello

Who lost, what found? What lost, who found? The world is an endless complex of lost and found. You lose dead skin. Hair follicles take to the sky in ghostly wisps. You excrete today’s breakfast, you ingest animal fat and … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Last Furies

Posted on April 20, 2026 by John Biscello

Print edition available through Lost Telegram Press.Audio-book edition (narrated by the author, with a preface by the publisher) available through Google Books, Booktopia, Audiobooks Now, Bookmate, Downpour, Libro F.M., Audiobooks.com, and many other outlets, including Lost Telegram Press.

Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

This Book Doesn’t Resolve Itself

Posted on April 16, 2026 by John Biscello

“So many novels are built around control. Even when they deal with rupture, they shape it into something we can grapple with. Events lead somewhere. Meaning accumulates in a way that can be tracked. By the end, the reader understands … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fante and Bandini

Posted on April 8, 2026 by John Biscello

Buon compleanno, John Fante (April 8th) Inferiority might have been your first memory. Though you were born on American soil, stubbornly planted there, the chinked chains of immigration clanked and rattled, Marley-style, tightening round your throat, as you butted your … Continue reading →

Posted in Books, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Words and Silence

Posted on March 20, 2026 by John Biscello

I write longhand because I feel as if I am skipping an essential step in the process if I go straight to typing up the work. Is it better that I write longhand? Does that make the work truer? More … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Not I

Posted on March 20, 2026 by John Biscello

Before this goes any further, allow me to come clean: I have never written a single line in my life. At least not creatively. I wouldn’t know how. Not knowing how is one of my specialties. It is my fool, … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

No One Dreams in Color

Posted on February 21, 2026 by John Biscello

A vanished filmmaker. A town that may not exist the way it claims to. A story where dreams, memory and reality refuse to stay separate. Coming April 14. This is psychic noir for readers who like their fiction unsettled. Preorder: … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Bela Tarr

Posted on January 6, 2026 by John Biscello

A nod and farewell to master Hungarian auteur, Bela Tarr (July 21st 1955 to January 6th 2026) who brought the barbiturate art of “slow cinema” to a whole other level of gravity and existential molasses. His seven-and-a-half hour magnum opus … Continue reading →

Posted in Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Brief History of Love

Posted on December 22, 2025 by John Biscello

Here, her mother said, pressing something into her palm.    A phantom tack. A concentrated pinch. Something sharp breaking skin and spreading heat.    She looked down. Her palm now tattooed with a tangle of dark glyphs, a concert of … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment