Tag Archives: Prose

Directions Home

Excerpt from No One Dreams in Color, a novel-in-progress. Bob Dylan, Carl Jung and Leonard Cohen walk into a bar in heaven… Dylan was dressed like a tramp clown, wearing a battered calico vest, baggy trousers, and a dusty bowler. … Continue reading

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Oh, the Places You’ll Sow!

Nothing can be done except a little at a time. This Baudelaire quote has been one of my mantras, one of my steady running mates since as long as I can remember. The world runs on inspiration. Warm fevers, lightning … Continue reading

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Brooklyn in Taos

Review of No Man’s Brooklyn in this week’s edition of the Taos News, as well as an interview about the novel, growing up in Brooklyn, and the writing life. No Man’s Brooklynby John BiscelloCSF Publishing (2021, 164 pp.) “Anya, a … Continue reading

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No Man’s Brooklyn

Cover reveal for my fourth novel. Coming soon from CSF Publishing.

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Straight Outta Brooklyn

Short video trailer, shot in Brooklyn, promoting the upcoming release of my fourth novel. NO MAN’S BROOKLYN From the valentine boneyards of working-class Brooklyn, comes a tale of first love, lost innocence, tragedy, and healing. Daniel Trovato, having left his … Continue reading

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Girl, Flame

She is there. She is always there, in the corridor. And she is lonely. This much I know. Lonely as a form of cold that you cannot cover with blankets or insulate against with coats and scarves and such. And … Continue reading

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Waiting

   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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If Only in Burning

   I saw the sign in the window: Lessons Learned/Karma Burned. I went inside. The studio smelled like frankincence. And cotton candy. Greeting me at the door, as if she had been waiting for me, was a tall, well-toned woman … Continue reading

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Blue Boy

   There’s something wrong with him, my father said. Look at him. Something’s not right. Something happened to him. He’s sick. All he thinks about is writing. That’s all he thinks about. He is blue.    Even though I wasn’t … Continue reading

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Death Rides In On A Pony

When Death showed up on a broken-down pony, I scoffed. This, really? What, Death said, looking around, unsure as to who or what I was referring. You’re Death, right? Yes. THE Death? You can check my I.D. And you’ve come … Continue reading

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