Gray Matter

Posted on April 18, 2019 by John Biscello
hound
While waiting for the bus
that stopped running
many years ago
the empty bench dreamed
of a world where people
still had time to sit
and drift along in reveries
that led nowhere
slowly.
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Patterning

Posted on April 18, 2019 by John Biscello
harlequin
Strains of lunacy,
befalling poets and clowns–
Homesick for the moon.

 

(Artwork by Cezanne)
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The Wash

Posted on April 17, 2019 by John Biscello
glenwood-angel-grieves-bw
It is not her grief
but ours, seeking pure outlet
beyond mortal scars.
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Georgia

Posted on April 17, 2019 by John Biscello
georgia
It was exact, and inflamed,
her relationship to the line,
to the geometry of tension
and its stringent brood–
Craft
demands the utmost attention,
which she paid,
by subjecting
the veins of petals
and moon-eaten skulls
to the edges of bristles,
dancing.
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Strip

Posted on April 17, 2019 by John Biscello
film reel
In a whitehot flash,
the map of one’s life exposed–
Many roles, then fade.
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What Don’t You See?

Posted on April 16, 2019 by John Biscello
female-nude-1910-1
No prism.
No idealogy.
No agenda.
Simply–
Hell hath no fury
like a woman scorched
and swallowed by desert,
bones
set to reform
and return
as a wind-knit skeleton
dancing
upon the gouged names
of its freighted oppressors.

 

(Artwork by Egon Schiele)
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Foot to Mouth

Posted on April 16, 2019 by John Biscello

feet

It’s less a fetish
and more of a — I’m sorry,
what was I saying?
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As Within

Posted on April 16, 2019 by John Biscello
Farmyard Scene
Softly, so softly,
the world converted itself
to cite how she felt.
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Solar Passive

Posted on April 16, 2019 by John Biscello

dust II

As if luring us
to become one with the sun–
Melting optional.

 

(Artwork by Edvard Munch)
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Three Cheers for Charlie

Posted on April 16, 2019 by John Biscello
Happy birthday (April 16th), Charles Spencer Chaplin!
chaplin x 3
Slapstick’s trinity,
a monotheistic gag–
Salvation’s last laugh.

 

chaplin esk

The Great Dictator?
Charlie, in jest, plants his foot–
no ass too big.

 

chaplin eating shoe

Winter, starving clown,
no disciples to be found–
this, the Last Supper?
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