Tag Archives: homage

Buon Compleanno, John Fante!

Posted on April 8, 2025 by John Biscello

(John Fante, April 8th, 1909-May 8th, 1983) Inferiority might have been your first memory. Though you were born on American soil, stubbornly planted there, the chinked chains of immigration clanked and rattled, Marley-style, tightening round your throat, as you butted … Continue reading →

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Room to Dream

Posted on January 16, 2025 by John Biscello

Visionary, cinematic shaman, and iconconclastic creative force, David Lynch was one of the most profound influences and inspirations in my life, someone whose work impacted me deep in my core and could move me to tears. Truly and thoroughly one … Continue reading →

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John Fante

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

John Fante splashed vinegar into the eyes of the world. The vinegar was house-made, from his mama’s trusty cupboard. Mama’s cupboard contained a lot, an old-world apothecary glutted with cloves of garlic, deceit, shame, bones, crucifixes, oregano, thyme, rosary beads, … Continue reading →

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Marguerite Duras

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

Marguerite Duras crowed about nothing. And nothingness. Lyrics like so much silky water threaded in the raptures of an eddy. Whirling, heady, intoxicating, a dizzying effect that spoke sheerest volumes about the secret history of love. Love for M.D. was … Continue reading →

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Beckett

Posted on November 8, 2024 by John Biscello

Samuel Beckett plunged his head so far up his ass, daylight became a dream and conundrum. He saw the world through shit-filtered glasses, the bluest of roses manure-caked, anal cavity functioning as the base of inspiration, as the grimy pulpit … Continue reading →

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In the Company of Solitude, Vol. I

Posted on January 8, 2024 by John Biscello

During the summer of 2023, I had the privilege and joy of spending six weeks in Japan, based in Niigata, with short trips to Tokyo, Kyoto and Sado Island. I enjoyed the flaneur’s giddy and childlike luxury of wandering streets … Continue reading →

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Calling

Posted on October 11, 2022 by John Biscello

In not so many words I found my wanting voice calling out to you almost. It was going to say things about blues and greens I think in relation to the sea in relation to your eyes. I might’ve gone … Continue reading →

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Stars

Posted on June 1, 2022 by John Biscello

To glean, unerringly,the ripe maternal geniusof soil,she took lucid stockof her originsas a glamorous peasantfrom the cursive fiestaof stars–Words, as sacrosanct bond,became her,if only to negligeethe remote and hidden contoursof her fable unending.

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Nipples don’t Kill

Posted on May 8, 2022 by John Biscello

In the feral country of nipples,where she-wolves raisetheir pups to howl unashamedlyat the moon,many many men,unconsciously ensnaredin puritanical roots,fear, scorn and revilethe mystery of the female nipple,its organic promise of milk and eternitytoo vagrantly radiantfor many many men’s eyes to … Continue reading →

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The Source

Posted on May 8, 2022 by John Biscello

For mothers everywhere: Their hearts, registeredas infinite beacons,have gone gentlyand luminously into nightsnot so good and pitch-black, bravingflytrap folds and god-awful rowsto soothe, mend andrestore the bruised vitalsof daughters and sons;they go, infused with bright rage,green force driving homenocturnes and … Continue reading →

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