-
Archives
- September 2026
- August 2026
- May 2026
- April 2026
- March 2026
- February 2026
- January 2026
- December 2025
- November 2025
- October 2025
- September 2025
- August 2025
- July 2025
- June 2025
- May 2025
- April 2025
- March 2025
- February 2025
- January 2025
- November 2024
- October 2024
- September 2024
- August 2024
- July 2024
- June 2024
- May 2024
- April 2024
- February 2024
- January 2024
- December 2023
- November 2023
- October 2023
- September 2023
- August 2023
- May 2023
- March 2023
- February 2023
- January 2023
- December 2022
- November 2022
- October 2022
- September 2022
- August 2022
- July 2022
- June 2022
- May 2022
- April 2022
- March 2022
- January 2022
- December 2021
- November 2021
- October 2021
- September 2021
- August 2021
- July 2021
- June 2021
- May 2021
- April 2021
- March 2021
- February 2021
- January 2021
- December 2020
- November 2020
- October 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- March 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- December 2018
- November 2018
- October 2018
- September 2018
- August 2018
- July 2018
- June 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- February 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
-
Meta
Tag Archives: Prose
Knife
My sister says she doesn’t have many memories from childhood. When she looks back, there’s nothing there: a blank screen. I never asked her if she saw black or white in her absence of memories. One of her earliest memories, … Continue reading
Portrait
When I watched my mother brush her hair, it made a scraping electric sound: vibrating plastic teeth sinking repeatedly into a fuzzy animal. I loved watching my mother brush her hair. I’d make sure to always stand behind her, so … Continue reading
Miasma
I have mimicked many voices to track and capture my mother’s theriomorphic grief, therefore my own: history pared and blood-let outside of time. Inside time, once upon a time, my mother was, as she tells it, a terrified-out-of-her-mind seventeen-year-old, not … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged birth, birthing blues, connection, grief, hospital, human condition, mother, Poetry, Prose, son, text
Leave a comment
Last Furies: Audio Book
Early release of the audio book version of The Last Furies, available through Lost Telegram Press (or Rakuten Kobo: http://kobo.com/) Print and digital editions coming in mid-September.
Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video
Tagged american novel, audio book, canadian publisher, Cinema, lost telegram press, novel, Poetry, Prose, rakuten kobo, Surrealism, Theater, vaudeville
2 Comments
Dinner
I waited. We waited. A storm was coming. It had to be. He had returned from rehab several days earlier, after having been gone for two months. My father had always born pouchy bags under his eyes, but there, … Continue reading
In the Dark
I was vacant when he entered me, a ghost in a long corridor. In the distance, I heard low hissing. As if the world were losing air through a slow leak. I silently sang myself a lullaby from my childhood, … Continue reading
Final Cover
Final cover for The Last Furies has been decided (thanks to all who voted), along with updates about the process of the novel and evolving audio-book version.
Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video
Tagged american novel, canadian publishing, experimental, heather ross, hybrid, multi-dimensional, novel, photography, Prose, Publication, Surrealism, The Last Furies, words
Leave a comment
Postcard from the Edge
On a chrome operating table, an umbrella and a sewing machine make love. Are about to make love. Have already made love. One or the other or the other. It is industrial burlesque in a vintage Parisian postcard bearing a … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged love, lust, moon, Poetry, postcard, Prose, romance, secret affair, sewing machine, Surrealism, umbrella
Leave a comment
Ballad of the Cuckoos (publication)
Publication of my screenplay, Ballad of the Cuckoos, in Issue 8 of For Page and Screen magazine, now live.
Posted in Artwork, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater
Tagged ballad of the cuckoos, film, magazine, Poetry, Prose, Publication, screenplay, Surrealism
Leave a comment
Snaps
Sneak-pique at some layout specs from my forthcoming novel, The Last Furies (Lost Telegram Press).
Posted in Artwork, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized
Tagged design, experimental novel, film, ghosts, hybrid novel, layout, Literary, lost telegram press, Poetry, polaroids, Prose, text, The Last Furies, Theater
Leave a comment
John Biscello 