Tag Archives: Prose

Denis Johnson’s Sea Maiden

Posted on April 5, 2018 by John Biscello

Review of Denis Johnson’s The Largesse of the Sea Maiden appearing in Riot Material. “Picture the sibilant music of blood-red sand shifting from one bulbous half of the hourglass to the other. Or black-and-white film footage, bearing a scarred geography … Continue reading →

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Sylvia Plath

Posted on April 4, 2018 by John Biscello

To be a mother, and to double as a dark sorceress, a cleaver of dried bones, could not have been easy. Especially in the 1950s. They burned witches then, as well as reds and blacks and faggots, and other things … Continue reading →

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Growing Young

Posted on April 2, 2018 by John Biscello

I want to grow young with you, she said. It made perfect sense. People had it all wrong. You don’t grow old, your body, this borrowed vessel, it withers and ages and decays, your body grows old, your brain grows … Continue reading →

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Snapshot

Posted on March 29, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from Raking the Dust) Seven years later, reflecting upon an analytical snapshot held up to the light: Thirty-three, unemployed, a boatload of debt, drinking excessively, divorcee, amateur plumber of shit-clogged pipe dreams—when I got my head stuck up my … Continue reading →

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Meeting D.J.

Posted on March 28, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from Raking the Dust) I see you decided to join me. I didn’t want you to drink alone. We sat at an empty table flanking the wall. The band was now playing a mournful ballad.  Something about two lovers … Continue reading →

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Paper Trail

Posted on February 26, 2018 by John Biscello

Completed draft of my new novel, No Man’s Brooklyn. A return to childhood, to the source of ghosts, to Brooklyn roots.

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Super Hero

Posted on February 23, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.)    I was six when I found out I’d never become a superhero.    We were in the kitchen. Me, my mother, and father. My father’s hand was around my mother’s throat. He had a … Continue reading →

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In Love and War

Posted on February 22, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.)    I dumped all my G.I. Joes out of the shopping bag and onto the pavement of the driveway. I separated the good guys from the bad guys, and then arranged them in specific positions. … Continue reading →

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Daniel and Anya

Posted on February 22, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.)    Anya melts onto her back.    Lie down with me okay?    I lie down.    Our sides are touching, barely, but enough.    You can’t see many stars tonight, Anya says.    Too … Continue reading →

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Henry, June, Anais, 2018

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Henry’s cell, his first ever, gave rise to a new breed of anxiety and impatience.    Fretfully awaiting Anais’s text, he stared at the dark electronic device cradled in his palm, and keenly felt pangs of nostalgia.    He recalled … Continue reading →

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