Category Archives: Artwork

Totem

Posted on June 27, 2016 by John Biscello

   Here, her mother said, pressing something into her palm.    A pinch.    A pinch, breaking skin, spreading blush and heat.    She looked down—her palm now tattooed with a tangle of dark glyphs; a concert of spirals, curlicues … Continue reading →

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Yellow is the Color of my Sad

Posted on June 26, 2016 by John Biscello

Yellow is the color of my sad, how it runs. Some think it is blue but it is not. Blue is the common choice for color/me/sad, the popular one (how moods get typecast), but yellow is much sadder than blue, … Continue reading →

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stones, passing

Posted on June 21, 2016 by John Biscello

At the carnival I was most intrigued by the stone-swallower. A waifish bronze-skinned lady with dark hair, plaited, and slender fingers. I was rapt, watching the way she carefully arranged the stones to form a sort of pyramid at her … Continue reading →

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Tinder

Posted on June 9, 2016 by John Biscello

In this lighted instance, a storm-watch of gold bearing the heft of silence and time, slowed. Blue shoulders the collapse of heaven, it is the Atlas underlay, the muscle cloud formation. When the painter dies, this tindered vault will inherit … Continue reading →

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Flint

Posted on June 8, 2016 by John Biscello

A scissored valentine walked into a hard case. The floor, a silent witness, held its tongue. It was one of those Sundays that was acting like a Tuesday. Scrambled eggs, jazz, and a wet book of matches. This wasn’t going … Continue reading →

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Peter Parker’s Blues

Posted on June 3, 2016 by John Biscello

As a kid I wanted to be you. Swinging, from building to building, across the cityscape, sticking to walls with velcroed hands and feet, no fear of falling, no Icarus complex crippling your confidence in upward mobility.

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Woman Draped in Yellow

Posted on May 24, 2016 by John Biscello

In a state of honeyed repose, her flightless body, a constellation, draped in the sheer cloth of sunlight, as she models hidden grief to witnesses unseen by common sight.

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Van Gogh, Wheat Field

Posted on May 18, 2016 by John Biscello

It is what you might call omen-brushed yellow, a virulent scare, its quotient graded just below dark, and subtly so. A sky raining crows, like a scandal of mustaches, or handlebar dissent. Yellow crosses daring a blight, or braving a … Continue reading →

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Banana: Love, Andy

Posted on May 17, 2016 by John Biscello

A religious protuberance, a monkey’s Marxist gag. To be eaten, to be peddled, to be inserted or diagnosed, a digestible comic device, precursor to aerial pies and throwaway wives. Banana. As a word, it teases and amuses, does not take … Continue reading →

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Flicker

Posted on May 16, 2016 by John Biscello

(In response to Josef Sudek’s “Morning Viaducts”) Can you hear, the cobbled morning streets gathering in thick coarse hands the staccato clang of hooves and thin gray voices arising from the ghosts of people caught in a sudden sonata? Can … Continue reading →

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