John Biscello

Engraved in the paranthetical shadows

of intensely subjective cinema,

I cited myself,

watching myself,

submerged

in a pooling coven of ghosts

whose bluest breath of want

revived me in fleeting doses.

I knew that if I kept watching

I would go on.

The question then became

not a matter of survival

but rather the dimensions of the screen

and if the film would enjoy a wider release.