Wine, sex and good food lover, Mendes Biondo is able to start one thousand projects just for the desire of adventure they can give to him. He is a lazy bone man or the spaghetti guy. He writes poems - novels are too fucking long to write - and some of them were published by brave editors on different mags. Even braver publisher printed books with his verses on them.
What struck me first about Mendes Biondo’s Spaghetti and Meatballs: Poems for Hot Organ was how aggressive the sexuality of this new collection is. I wasn’t offended or bothered in any way by it, but raw physicality runs through the book. This sexuality, however, is not what I was left with after having read the English translations of Biondo’s Italian poetry. What I came back to was a new vision of the universal feeling of despair and loneliness we all feel, and the antidotes that he offers to that despair. Continue reading “John Brantingham Review of “Spaghetti and Meatballs – Poems for Hot Organs” on Cultural Weekly”→
the howl of the Blue Dog started the dream
there where mambos everywhere
huge breasts dancing on a tribal music
and their nipples were Cajun orange
their milk was pure pepper
my tongue got purple
because of that capsaicin….