Tag Archives: identity

In the Belly Of

In the softest pit of my belly, the masticating angel, the glowing renegade with milkbone teeth, eats me alive, and spits me back out into the world, half-light, half-silence, the happy miscarriage of identity winnowing the essential me from I. … Continue reading

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In My Solitude

It is, for me, as well as other writers of a certain breed, a familiar haunt and barbed echo, that fear of being found out and exposed as a fraud and imposter, some busted metaphor that won’t hold up under … Continue reading

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Arc

Here, learning to craft, birth to arc, John Biscello– my life’s truest art.

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Autobiography

To know myself, a rogue aggregate of loving atoms, a happy shivering clusterfuck of luminous baubles banded together to forge and assume an alleged identity, no papers or pulpit required, to fulfill an arc, and heart-guided directives, to be a … Continue reading

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Closer

You said you knew me, but really, what did you know? Closer, I dare you.   (Photo by Man Ray)    

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Diane Arbus

The camera, doesn’t revolt upon you, per se, but its mirror, when reversed, convicts an image which forges your name, if not your identity.     (Photo by Allan Arbus)

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