Tag Archives: story

The Killers at Red’s

Posted on July 6, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from Nocturne Variations appearing in Riot Material. Joe pushed open the door and a bell sang. Max followed Joe into Red’s. The men’s dark hats and trenchcoats were beaded in snow. Joe took off his hat and waved it … Continue reading →

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1923

Posted on March 20, 2017 by John Biscello

   In the black and white photo, 1923 written in faded pencil in the lower left hand corner, neatly scalloped perforations along the borders—my grandmother and her sister, Rose, are standing on the beach.  Coney Island.  In the background the … Continue reading →

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Princess Leia on the Rocks

Posted on March 19, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from “Stray Passages: My time in San Francisco lasted a little over a month and would have been even shorter if not for Diana.  I arrived and decided to check into a hostel in North Beach.  I picked North … Continue reading →

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Flea Circus

Posted on March 19, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from “Stray Passages” Greyhound: A sleek, streamlined, swift-as-the-wind breed of dog. A coughing, sputtering, wheezing, smoke-blowing mutt, prone to flea infestation.    I spent a great deal of my twenties canned inside the dank sweaty armpit of travel Americana: … Continue reading →

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Spleen

Posted on March 19, 2017 by John Biscello

   We didn’t talk about it, but we knew we’d never amount to anything, no matter what we did.    No matter how celebrated the accomplishment, no matter how big the lie and the audience buying it, nothing could ever … Continue reading →

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Fruit

Posted on March 12, 2017 by John Biscello

   L & S was a candy store and newsstand located on the corner of 60th St. and 18th Ave.  L & S, which stood for Louie & Son, was owned by Louie Varinella: a burly, slightly balding man with … Continue reading →

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Lighted Window Syndrome

Posted on February 13, 2017 by John Biscello

   All my life I have had lighted window syndrome.    Being outside someone’s window at night, and seeing the lighted window, its warm amber glow was an invitation to feel a sense of home, not to be at home, … Continue reading →

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My Sister

Posted on February 11, 2017 by John Biscello

   My sister and I are bonded in that we were in the trenches together. In the battle-zone that was our household, we were witnesses to and casualties of the same war.    I am six years older than my … Continue reading →

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My Mother

Posted on February 11, 2017 by John Biscello

   My mother had had a hard life. There have been many challenges, many obstacles, and in a sense you could trace their origins back to her father, her rapist.    When your father is also your rapist your childhood … Continue reading →

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My Father

Posted on February 11, 2017 by John Biscello

My father was a tough guy. How tough, it’s hard to say. And when I say tough I mean it in the street-Brooklyn sort of way. Neighborhood-tough, man-tough, like that.    As I’ve grown older I’ve realized it’s much more … Continue reading →

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