Tag Archives: Prose

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.

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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 →

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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 →

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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 →

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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 →

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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 →

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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 →

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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 →

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What We Talk About When We Talk About Time

Posted on December 19, 2025 by John Biscello

1.    The hem of her dress had caught his eye.    Yours was an eye waiting to be caught, she’d say, later, much later, a drizzle of girlishness in her voice.    The dress was a form-fitting red dress … Continue reading →

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Way Station

Posted on December 19, 2025 by John Biscello

   I am waiting. There I am, see me, waiting on the train station platform. I am waiting for my train. It is a specific train that I am waiting for. When a train begins pulling into the station, I … Continue reading →

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