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Meta
Monthly Archives: February 2024
Here Today…
People who vanish, where exactly do they go? Thin air holds secrets.
Notes in Passing
The old man in the blue hat, short-sleeve white shirt, gray pants, blue sneakers, seated on a canvas folding chair staked on a plot of grass, the old man’s elected vantage point from which to enjoy his beer and watch … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged dreaming, festival, musing, parade, Poetry, portrait, Prose, sketch, street scene, summer days, this life
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Transit
No words to describe this passing sense, here now gone— Dreaming in real-time.
Portrait
In the hospitable equation of a bicycle, lighted doors and people we cannot see, a hypnogogic nocturne forms of its own accord, begetting incalculable solitude and lore to the trespasses of dreaming.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged bicycle, dreaming, house, japan, lore, poem, Poetry, portrait, street scene, trespasses
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Penumbra
We practice intimacy in scales, from a near warmed distance— a concentrated swath of light, calling us forth, entreats our internal orphan to find fugitive solace in the softly respiring aura of solitude.
Night Beat
It is in these moments when the pumpkin orange glow of the lanterns softens the streets and the bicycles lined up in rows compose portraits of ordered symmetry, that the night turns in on itself, and with it goes I, … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
Tagged after dark, blues, ephemera, ghosts, japan, niigata, poem, Poetry, streetlamps, streets
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Melodrama
Let’s start with this photo, the comic melodrama in which you, perfectly staged, are wearing a blue pinafore dress, your dark hair gagged in pigtails, mouth heavily lipsticked, cheeks cherubically rouged, your eyes two flashing ovals of abyss-pooling licorice, sweat … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged incarnations, life and death, locomotive, love story, lyrics to go, melodrama, mourning, novel in progress, photo, Prose, silent film, story, tragedy, villain
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Blue
I knew this. Even before I met her, I knew this. But she, as an explicit confirmation, as a caretaker and symbiotic mouthpiece to my unsaid secrets, said, and so concisely—Dreams come out of the blue, returning to the blue. … Continue reading
Play
I have to imagine her death from every conceivable angle. She has assured me she will disappear, said that dying is a trick of the light, and everyone was enamored of the mirage, convinced, in on it, the gag. When … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged betweenworlds, death, dreamscape, life, Light, love story, mirage, persona, playtime, Prose, show, story, Theater
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Stand-Up
This is not a not a novel. This is a rhapsody. I rhapsodize, I bubble, I ferment, I fount. The amassing of word-shaped sounds have become rhapsodies, digressions, solos within spheres and platforms of soul-sounding species and choruses, the every … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged black comedy, book, fiction, lenny bruce, lord buckley, mae west, nightclub, not novel, novel, Poetry, stand-up, story, storytelling, this lyrical life, voice, words
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John Biscello 