Tag Archives: Prose

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 →

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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 →

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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 →

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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 →

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Anya in the Forest

Posted on February 11, 2018 by John Biscello

   In the dream my mother and me are sitting in the lobby of a restaurant. We are waiting to be seated for dinner.    The hostess comes up to me and asks me if I am ­­­ ________. I … Continue reading →

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Anya at Night

Posted on February 8, 2018 by John Biscello

   Late summer.    Anya and I are on a walking tour of the park at night. The 40oz. bottles of Olde-E we are carrying are concealed inside brown bags. We detour at the playground, where Anya plants herself on … Continue reading →

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Valentine

Posted on February 8, 2018 by John Biscello

Excerpt from Nocturne Variations:    From that point forward Piers and Teresa hung out nearly every night, getting drunk and stoned and completing each other in various ways.    An adverbially inflamed Teresa fell hard for Piers and loved her … Continue reading →

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Book of Disquiet

Posted on February 1, 2018 by John Biscello

Review of Fernando Pessoa’s Book of Disquiet, appearing in Riot Material. “Abandon hope all ye who enter here, might be the most fitting sign and qualifier preceding entry into the world of Disquiet. And yet, paradoxically, there is beauty, staggering, asphyxiating … Continue reading →

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Grandfather

Posted on January 21, 2018 by John Biscello

   The only time I had ever seen my grandfather cry was also the first time I had ever seen an adult blatantly lose touch with reality. His first wife, my grandmother, Angelina, had died when I was five. She … Continue reading →

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Holden on the Rocks

Posted on January 21, 2018 by John Biscello

   After the first bar, my father and I slide over to another bar, a non-island-themed one where a DJ is spinning party-pop music. At this point my father is slumped over on his barstool. When the bartender asks him … Continue reading →

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