Tag Archives: John Biscello

My Father

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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Manual Labor of Like

   I had hoped to make out with Josephine during the movie, but the hand-job was completely unexpected.  Even after what Kenny had told me, I was still shocked when it happened.    Josephine was the cousin of Jenny, my … Continue reading

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Kleptomania

     There was a time when kleptomania was all the rage among the women in my family. That is, my mother, and my two aunts, Marie and Rosetta, were robbing department stores and toy stores with casual regularity. I’m … Continue reading

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Metamorphosis

On the day I was turned to stone all mirrors were instantly abolished and silence became that gilded golden thing I had heard so much about and the stillness of time slowed to a moist chafing pardon where I was … Continue reading

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Bloodlet

   I don’t think they can handle the Juice, Davey Dog sneered a challenge.    He smirked with superiority and you couldn’t tell exactly where he was looking, because his eyes were hidden behind dark glasses.    There were eight … Continue reading

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O.T.B.

   It was one of the hot-spots on the avenue. The place where the men hung out every day. It was their church, their sanctuary, their cave, a place where the regular lives went away for a little while. My … Continue reading

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Street Corner

   It was a vicious arena, gladiator combat conducted with tongues.    To survive on a Brooklyn street corner you needed you needed to be quick on the verbal draw. It was easy, always on the defensive, one’s metaphysical position … Continue reading

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Literary Fire Sale

As part of a countdown deal, the Kindle edition of my novels Raking the Dust and Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale will be available for $2.99 from February 8th-15th.    

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They Are Their Own

Do you know where your children are? Or rather who, in their ripening pedigree and new language they are in the process of becoming? Make no mistake they are not nor have they ever been yours belonging infinitely to the … Continue reading

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Tali’s

   It was a thing. Every Tuesday night at around 7 or 8, the black Cadillac Sedan would pull up in front of Tali’s bar, and the driver would hustle around to the other side of the car, open the … Continue reading

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