Tag Archives: childhood

Wonder

Posted on December 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Ask a child, any child, what the difference is between Monday and Thursday? No matter how they respond, look them in the eyes and tell them how wonderful they are.

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Puddle

Posted on December 6, 2018 by John Biscello

Find a puddle after a rainstorm. Close your eyes and dream yourself as a six-yr-old dreaming yourself as a magnificent and shimmering work of art. Or as a happy goldfish. Whether as shimmering art, or happy goldfish, open your eyes, … Continue reading →

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Geist

Posted on November 25, 2018 by John Biscello

Memory, like stone tapes, like hardened slabs of analog recalling the icy geist of my childhood in a Brooklyn basement, revisited.

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Fever

Posted on July 25, 2018 by John Biscello

I haven’t been sick like this since I was six or maybe nine that deceptively mild hazily pleasant heartbleating ache and motherseek fever that takes you to that tender place of breezy white flags and euphoric yield and there, you, … Continue reading →

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First, Lasting

Posted on May 31, 2018 by John Biscello

In the shrine that we build for first kisses, lies the furloughed still-warm lips of Childhood’s ghosts, forever puckering to seal love, airtight in its untold lore and claim to rose.

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Fly Now, Pray Later

Posted on May 29, 2018 by John Biscello

For a subliminal time only it’s here Neverland’s lucid New Romanticism replete with pricks, needles and pines bespeaking Pagan Renaissance Nouveau a movement that will start in your vowels and end in your Oh’s especially suggested for those soft in … Continue reading →

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Childhood’s Wake

Posted on May 25, 2018 by John Biscello

You can feel it in the air, a razory sheen, all the childhoods that were lost or stolen or seized or buried to model catacombs and secret lairs, are returning to the surface bigtime, the reclaimants growing new teeth and … Continue reading →

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Marvel

Posted on April 23, 2018 by John Biscello

As a child, the thinnest greenest wisps of air held tiny totemic figures of me, carved from sheer terror, aloft, and I pretended, o how I pretended to be the biggest strongest bravest boldest of them all, a clown-saint crossing … Continue reading →

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Pearl

Posted on March 29, 2018 by John Biscello

Drowned at a young age, angel to a sunken arc– find her pearl-diving.

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Hallway

Posted on March 4, 2018 by John Biscello

This could be titled John Biscello Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, could be titled Romancing the Ghosts, or perhaps no title at all, just a flickering reminiscence trapped in a photo snapped by a childhood friend who swears that he occasionally … Continue reading →

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