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Tag Archives: Prose
Warehouse
A deserted warehouse. This is where the Red Joans gather. It is the same deserted warehouse, again and again, an exact replica, that serves as the meeting-place for all the Red Joans. The warehouse is a desolate shrine to recursion, … Continue reading
Roles of a Lifetime
Evie often had trouble determining where she ended, and someone else began. That someone else being a role she adopted for stage. It was a common problem, a customary side-effect to acting, she understood that, but what vexed her most … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged evelyn chase, John Biscello, Person/a, Prose, role play, the acting life, void and nil
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Osmosis
The coke parties were my favorite. It was when everyone was happiest. Everyone usually meant my mother, father, and their friends, Tony and Dina. My mother would tell me—Tony and Dina are coming over tonight—and I knew that meant … Continue reading
Between Stations
I was on the subway platform waiting for the train when I spotted a thin girl in torn jeans and bright green tank-top walking in my direction. Her hair was a bushel of unruliness. As the girl drew nearer … Continue reading
Posted in Books, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized
Tagged Brooklyn, first love, girl interrupted, John Biscello, no man's brooklyn, Prose, subway encounter, train station
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Demasking is a Crime
Signs everywhere: rectangular slabs of mildly glowing metal that warned in red lettering: Demasking is a crime. It was in the year _______ that a maskless society had ceased to exist. A decision was made by people who made decisions … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged cover up schemes, demasking is a crime, dystopic stew, hidden agendas, John Biscello, Prose, watchwords
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These Glacial Times
I have been in a coma now for sixty-seven days. No one reaches me anymore. And I don’t reach them. Everything that has to do with reaching—in, out—all of that is done. It is jazz that has lost its voice. … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged american pie, boy interrupted, dreamlife, John Biscello, jukebox, pop odyssey, Prose
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Starstuff
Mariko was a photographer of stars. It feels funny to put it that way. It sounds as if she photographed celebrities.She only took photos of stars in the night sky. She said the stars were her real home and that’s … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged John Biscello, love, mariko, night sky, photography, Prose, starscaping
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Mariko
I knew from the beginning that Mariko was haunted, but there was nothing I could do about it. My only choice was to love her, and until the very end. I have five photographs left of Mariko. I burned all … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged Desire, John Biscello, light and shadow, love, mariko, Prose, the haunting
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Frost
There is a specific tenor to dreaming in a silent and snowy land. It’s that place where your voice grows brighter, then brittle and glassy, before shattering into a choir of a thousand birds, and everywhere the echoes attempt to … Continue reading
