Monthly Archives: January 2018

Unreaching Anya

Posted on January 7, 2018 by John Biscello

Anya I long to reach you only because I know that you are unreachable. It keeps my longing in a chrysalis state, a cocoon state. Nothing ever grows, it simply hums and palpitates and aspires toward growth. It is the … Continue reading →

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Miracle

Posted on January 5, 2018 by John Biscello

When kissing, we initiated our tongues to slow, deep, fevered tango, wresting the rabid miracle of pink from thin, slitted air.

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Darking Anya

Posted on January 4, 2018 by John Biscello

   Remember when we were kids and we’d sometimes have sleepovers and listen to the dark together? That’s what you called it, Anya, listening to the dark. Sometimes we’d pretend to be camping. We’d make a tent on my bedroom … Continue reading →

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Neverland Exposed

Posted on January 4, 2018 by John Biscello

Peter Pan’s Jesus complex turns flights of fancy into guilty pleasures, sacred geometry into zero accountability, stillborn freezes into high, happy fevers, starling charms into martyred alibis, deeply felt distances into shallow runs of intimacy, and yet beneath all the … Continue reading →

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Peter Pan’s Jesus Complex

Posted on January 4, 2018 by John Biscello

Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress.    I remember the time, Anya, when my mother asked about you and me. I was thirteen. My mother’s sickness was in its early stages. She had already turned the couch in the livingroom … Continue reading →

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Ashes to Ashes

Posted on January 4, 2018 by John Biscello

Out of the ash-heap, she imagined something new would emerge, but when the wind blew and scattered the ashes to reveal nothing but scorch-marks upon scarred earth, she understood, with a great sense of loss, that form followed function only … Continue reading →

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Cup

Posted on January 3, 2018 by John Biscello

The simpling of the heart as it pours fast light into a rimless cup.

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Of Time and the River

Posted on January 3, 2018 by John Biscello

   One thing we cannot recover is time.    Perhaps that’s what I have been trying to do.    Perhaps that’s what every writer, as a fugitive stalker, as a heartsick orphan, as the fool-hero in their own movie is … Continue reading →

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Quest

Posted on January 3, 2018 by John Biscello

One thing we cannot recover is time. And perhaps every writer, as a fugitive stalker, as a fool-hero on a desperate quest, sets himself this glorious, impossible task, the solvent recovery of time through the mortal fetters of a merciful … Continue reading →

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Lemonade

Posted on January 3, 2018 by John Biscello

After the deluge of lemons stopped, adults everywhere, altered by the citric downpour, carved into the future with zest and salacious glee, and set up stands on sidewalks and roadsides, selling lemonade refreshed from the heart of Childhood’s immutable lore.

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