Tag Archives: no man’s brooklyn

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 →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Anya Rising

Posted on February 21, 2018 by John Biscello

(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.)    I see her rising off the bathroom tiles, toes pointing downward.    I know this is a dream but I also know this actually happened, once, a long time ago.    Except then Anya … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fictioning Anya

Posted on February 19, 2018 by John Biscello

   (Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.)    Anya, Julia weighed the name softly on her tongue. Anya. Wait, she was the one they found in the trashcan when she was a baby, right?    The one and only.    Yes … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Breathing Lessons

Posted on February 18, 2018 by John Biscello

   One night Anya and I were hanging out in my living room. My father was in Atlantic City. My mother was dead. Had been for almost three years at that point.    Anya and I had the place to … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Angels with Dirty Laundry

Posted on February 18, 2018 by John Biscello

Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress.    The binge ended. It could have been longer, could have been worse. It was what it was and while there was residual shame and disquiet, there was also gratitude that I had stumbled … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

The Fat Woodworker

Posted on February 14, 2018 by John Biscello

   Se non e vero, e’ ben trovato  (“Even if it is not true, it is a good story”).    I learned this Italian phrase from a man I met at a bar in Venice Beach.    The man, a … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Gravesite

Posted on February 13, 2018 by John Biscello

  My father and I visited my mother’s grave. Nothing about it felt profound or moving. It felt like a prescribed exercise in courtesy, a bland ritual.    One thing that gave it a dramatic feel: it was raining.     … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I Sing the Body Defective

Posted on February 12, 2018 by John Biscello

Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress.    Me and Jake are Charlie are at the Body Rub joint.    Jake is treating me to a massage. He offers to treat Charlie too, but Charlie declines. He says he’ll be happy … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Father, I

Posted on February 12, 2018 by John Biscello

   I’ve been waiting for you to exist, I say to my father, even though he is not there.    What?    I’ve been waiting for you to exist, to become real. Me too.    What the hell are you … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sideshow

Posted on February 12, 2018 by John Biscello

   I, perched on a craggy promontory overlooking my childhood, and its entire formless geography, saw them, my friends, all of them: a mutant strain of cryogeny, a mummified quivering changelessness, as if youth hadn’t been properly lived through but … Continue reading →

Posted in Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments