Tag Archives: Prose

Melodrama

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

Let’s start with this photo, the comic melodrama in which you, perfectly staged, are wearing a blue pinafore dress, your dark hair gagged in pigtails, mouth heavily lipsticked, cheeks cherubically rouged, your eyes two burning ovals of abyss-pooling licorice, sweat … Continue reading →

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Cinema

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

If cinema is a tomb, then let us die watching. The angel over my shoulder is hunched, dark, morphing. None of us ever leave behind the dark of the theater. We are here, always. Sanctuary, haven, enclave, respite, sitting tight … Continue reading →

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Pandora

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

I won’t call this a book because no one reads books anymore, no one gives two shits and a dime about books. I’ll call this an exalted and long overdue mania, a catalytic inversion, a freebase purge. Whatever, whatever. Voyeurs … Continue reading →

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Perfect Day

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

The weevils chewing through the walls and burrowing into the hollows. Rot sets in. Yet I wake up and the sun is a perfect circle, a ball of fire, a kissing fool’s star. I smile. To hell with the weevils. … Continue reading →

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Semen

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

Semen has flowed. The danger is past. This is an old proverb from a sunken country, one that no longer exists. This mother country with its many flaring mother tongues and tidals of flowing semen represents the Great Flood. Semen … Continue reading →

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Titanic

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Biscello

If there were two, then let us say there were two. The two danced on the time-haunted deck of the Titanic, they called it the Titanic because they understood the floor beneath their feet was not to be trusted, nor … Continue reading →

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The Ghostwriter Variations

Posted on January 24, 2024 by John Biscello

I    Now that he was dead, everything was different.  No more desire or ambition, no more pressures or expectations.  All of that had gone the instant his human life had expired.    As a ghost, at first he wondered … Continue reading →

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A Man Walks Into

Posted on January 24, 2024 by John Biscello

   A man walks into a man. He realizes it’s the same man … they’re … the same man. They merge. Naturally. Inviolably. A man walks into a man and a merger occurs.    Who was I before I walked … Continue reading →

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Knocking on Silence

Posted on January 24, 2024 by John Biscello

   Writing often feels like knocking on silence.  Like, I’m at some mysterious stranger’s door and it is raining outside and I am wet and rumpled (inside and out), hoping the door will open and I will be let in. … Continue reading →

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Comeback

Posted on January 14, 2024 by John Biscello

Pretend to be dead at your own funeral. Bask in the unparalleled theater of your ending. When the audience leaves, stop pretending. Plan a comeback, understanding that previous perceptions will be dismissed, and the cast of characters, including you, will … Continue reading →

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