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Meta
Tag Archives: bardo
Cowpunk
Another track from the jukebox catalog of None So Distant. COWPUNKLast night you set my quizzical pompadour on fire. Tonight, baby, I’m yours, behind the shed, all slangy and lonesome, in the needle’s eye of a hell-bellied storm. We are … Continue reading →
Posted in Artwork, Books, photography, Poetry, Prose, Publications
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Tagged bardo, cowpunk, jukebox, music, novel, Poetry, song
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Through the Dreaming
Born from the long forgotten the golems drift in the company of echoes. Half lit unremembered near to beingness you can hear the golems muttering inaudibly. Their mouths stuffed with wombs dreaming gumming up their enunciation. The words don’t come. … Continue reading →
In Dreams Begin First Person
I am running.It feels like I’ve been running for a long time.I want to turn around and look behind me but my neck is locked into place.So I can’t see who or what is chasing me, but I know it’s … Continue reading →
Posted in Artwork, Books, photography, Prose
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Tagged bardo, between worlds, dreams, excerpt, gothic, no one dreams in color, noir, novel, photo
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Imprint
Debutante, left to smolder and ash, traceless, in some afterlife, unannounced to the trailing cortege.
Posted in Artwork, photography, Poetry
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Tagged bardo, debutante, John Biscello, linda stojak, poem
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Endangered
All the maidens had gone extinct. The debutantes too. She found herself in this place, alone, a Bardo stage set for a film that would never be made about women who scorched revolution into the earth while kneading forgiveness, for … Continue reading →
Posted in Artwork, Cinema, photography, Poetry
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Tagged bardo, cindy sherman, John Biscello, movie set, photography, Poetry, untitled film poems, untitled film still
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Morph
The Bardo Hotel, respite for amorphic guests– Where change becomes you.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
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Tagged Artwork, bardo, doors, dorothea tanning, dreams, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, flowers, girls, haiku, hotel, John Biscello, painting, poem, Poetry, sunflower, Surrealism
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Serial Cinema
Between floating images, in the empty, elegant theater, he lingered in cinematic bardo, knowing that his next decision would initiate a a new narrative arc inspired by true events from a previous life.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
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Tagged bardo, Cinema, images, John Biscello, movie, poem, Poetry, rebirth
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John Biscello 