Author Archives: Jonathan Berger

Good morning, pal! What’s news to you, bro? The sun is out, but there’s still something you’ve gotta know. I have to remind you of something you hate: Yeah, it looks like a birthday kind of a date. You’re old, … Continue reading →

Mother said that she knew as soon as she saw the body collapsed on the floor halfway in the bathroom halfway in the hall that it was no longer a husband no longer a father no longer a living/breathing thing … Continue reading →

News on the street reminds me of something I’ve always known: my family which has been in the city for generations also lost generations in the old country in the war. In the Holocaust. In my immediate clan there are … Continue reading →

We met at the assigned location. At the hour of our meeting, there were few witnesses, as was the plan. He set up the camera and I set up the scripts. I had nothing memorized (as per usual) and when … Continue reading →

If the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls, then inquiring minds wanna know what the prophets are spittin’ in this day and age. So I slip my metrocard through and jump the stile just to be … Continue reading →

The places I wanted to take you to in my town from my life were special – to me at least – but as you clearly could tell didn’t seem to work for you very well. I wanted to show … Continue reading →

The challenge of the sestina not unlike a Czarina is to be effortless yet composed and express all the beauty and poise of (a) marina.

Once there was a little boy whose name was (Jon, but for the purposes of this story, we’ll call him) John. He was young, and he was confused, and he did many a thing without knowing why. This will become … Continue reading →

When I started the Johns series the other daythere were certain plans and conditions. The plan: crap stories about when I couldn’t hold it in and had to get creative on the streets and on the town and tried not … Continue reading →

So John (not that John. Another John)was just talking about being at the end of the train station near the omnipresent Do Not Enter sign that is really more of an invitation than a threat and he waxed poetic as … Continue reading →