Category Archives: Poetry

Starseed

Posted on March 23, 2018 by John Biscello

Rending the cosmos, to midwife its own star-seed, to papoose night-bloom.   (Artwork by Izumi Yokoyama)

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If on a Winter’s Night…

Posted on March 23, 2018 by John Biscello

In winter’s maw, snow, flutters of feathery pecks– kisses, melt to rash.   (Artwork by Hiroshige)

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Gertrude Stein

Posted on March 23, 2018 by John Biscello

Matron saint of reps, one word, next, again, the same– Style, the modern rage.   (Picasso’s portrait of Gertrude Stein)

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Veils

Posted on March 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Succubus to self, modeling Salome, dance of the seven deadly veils, thinned, to bare pleasure, and visitation rites.

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Bone Dry

Posted on March 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Those crisp autumn nights, alone, with miles and miles of thoughts worn to the bone.   (Painting by Edward Hopper)

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Red, Black

Posted on March 22, 2018 by John Biscello

To paint a blood-sport, matador, faring no bull– dark, in need of stars.   (Artwork by Mark Rothko)

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Louise to the nth degree

Posted on March 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Remember, love, there’s more of me where I came from– Frames cannot hold us.

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Arson

Posted on March 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Committing arson, five-alarm siren on screen– Louise Brooks, how you burned.    

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Chaplin, Keaton

Posted on March 22, 2018 by John Biscello

Men, who took the fall, to keep the world in stitches– Clowning achievement.   (Film still from Limelight, the only film in which Chaplin and Keaton appeared together).    

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Jean Rhys at Twilight

Posted on March 21, 2018 by John Biscello

Nutrition fact: Did you know that windows like to eat writers who diet on silence and dust-motes, they swallow the writers whole, or in fragments, devouring them slowly, ever so slowly, until all that remains is a ghost, where a … Continue reading →

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