Tag Archives: son

Plot

Posted on November 17, 2025 by John Biscello

Yesterday I buried my mother. Two mothers. Maybe three, or four. I have had many mothers in the small hours of this modest and shrinking life. All my mothers are tassels of foam threading mighty surf. All my mothers … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged bond, burial, emergence, familky, mother, plot, Poetry, Prose, son, speaking in tongues, story | Leave a comment

Winter

Posted on November 17, 2025 by John Biscello

I say my mother’s grief was white on white … I say this, but this is not true all the time. The colors change. My mother’s grief has been pink, blue, red. Yet, more and more, when I am … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged Blue, bond, ceremony, family, grief, mother, Poetry, Prose, red, seasons, son, Winter, Yellow | Leave a comment

Vigil

Posted on November 17, 2025 by John Biscello

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 →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged ceremony, eyes, family, fragment, hair, head, love, mother, portrait, ritual, son, story | 2 Comments

Mayday

Posted on November 17, 2025 by John Biscello

My mother’s grief attends nightly to her bones. It is a funeral in reverse, or a funeral in slow-motion, longing for a mourning long delayed. We stall ourselves in grief—idling, passive—and the freest parts become small dark birds tearing away … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged arrivals and departures, birth, creation, family, grief, memory, mother, son, story, trauma | 2 Comments

Knives

Posted on November 17, 2025 by John Biscello

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 … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged family, father, fragment, knives, memory, mother, Prose, sister, son, story | Leave a comment

Dinner, No Voices

Posted on November 17, 2025 by John Biscello

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 →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged dinner, Drama, family, father, fragment, mother, Prose, rehab, silence, son, story | Leave a comment

Portrait

Posted on September 1, 2025 by John Biscello

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged brush, eyes, hair, mother, Poetry, portrait, Prose, son, staring, story, temple | Leave a comment

Miasma

Posted on September 1, 2025 by John Biscello

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

Moments

Posted on October 9, 2023 by John Biscello

From the series, Japan Poems. Boy, bedazzled by the sea’s opaline crush, Mother, in the sand-softened throes of respite, holding tenderest vigil, to recognize life’s sweetest ease in passing.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged beach, japan, mother, niigata, poem, sand, sea, son | Leave a comment

Twilight

Posted on May 26, 2018 by John Biscello

As a child I searched high and low for the right kind of magic to heal my mother’s pain never truly understanding how heavy the chains were nor how the forgers names etched in every link belonged to Legion claiming … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged bond, chains, dreams, heroes, John Biscello, keys, love, mother, poem, resurrection, son, twilight | 2 Comments

Tag Archives: son

Plot

Winter

Vigil

Mayday

Knives

Dinner, No Voices

Portrait

Miasma

Moments

Twilight

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