Tag Archives: youth

Center of Nowhere

Posted on January 8, 2018 by John Biscello

    I come from nowhere Daniel, and nowhere is the exact center of the world. Isn’t that exciting?    I agreed with Anya that it was, even though I wasn’t sure what she meant. And I knew if I … Continue reading →

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Savor

Posted on January 2, 2018 by John Biscello

I was young, fevered and full of hope. My heart, green in its country, desired to push lightning through blooms, to cherish brightly in a thousand different directions at once. It was and always has been about rounding dreams from … Continue reading →

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Kissing Anya

Posted on December 28, 2017 by John Biscello

Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress.      I was hanging out in the schoolyard, by myself, throwing a Spalding against the wall. It was something I did to relax.    Anya breezed into the schoolyard. She was carrying a … Continue reading →

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They Are Their Own

Posted on December 5, 2017 by John Biscello

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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Boy

Posted on May 17, 2017 by John Biscello

At the time he didn’t know it, but stalking the radiant specter of morninglight as he sprinted down a cobbled alley, he left part of himself behind in a jigsaw piece of puddle that later, years later, he would reflect … 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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Memory Babe

Posted on March 12, 2017 by John Biscello

(In honor of Jack Kerouac’s birthday, March 12th, an excerpt from my Greyhound travelogue, “Stray Passages”)    I discovered Kerouac, by chance, when I was nineteen and as a wide-eyed babe greedily suckling Kerouac’s vision-engorged tit, that  which he had … Continue reading →

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They Are Their Own

Posted on February 6, 2017 by John Biscello

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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Minuet

Posted on May 21, 2016 by John Biscello

Almost dusk. Young unbridled lovers, hands bonded, fingers chaste in a minuet, lying on their backs in the sunspiked grass of the graveyard. The boy whispers something into the girl’s ear, the girl giggles at that something, and then silence, … Continue reading →

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