Tag Archives: cindy sherman

Slip

Posted on October 7, 2020 by John Biscello

Backlit to claim form, the shadow slipped over her and bared its longing. #36 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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Cauldron

Posted on October 7, 2020 by John Biscello

It had been a long hard winter. Discontent brewed and bubbled like witches tits in a seething cauldron. She had decided once and for all to fuck spring right between the eyes with the last of her husband’s whittled pride. … Continue reading →

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Storybook Ending

Posted on October 7, 2020 by John Biscello

It wasn’t her in the book, but it could be. Why couldn’t it be? If she modeled herself correctly, assuming the strictest code of due fiction, she could rival the heroine between the covers and rest easy, knowing others were … Continue reading →

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To Whom It May Concern

Posted on October 7, 2020 by John Biscello

The letters ran together, a blur, and vicious assembly, which forced her to comprehend an absence, with no prints to register. #33 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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Torch Song

Posted on October 7, 2020 by John Biscello

Some women waited for men to light their cigarettes for them but never her— she, the one who netted her own desire, and blatantly committed a most lovely heresy by balancing a small piece of the moon on her fingertips … Continue reading →

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Losing my Religion

Posted on October 7, 2020 by John Biscello

It began, innocently, with the allure of velvet-dark and musky incense, then it became something else, or she did, a girl with a ribbed dream-life, in which she and God found each other, spread severely thin upon the wetted meshes … Continue reading →

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Photograph

Posted on October 7, 2020 by John Biscello

Where was I then, or better yet, who? All night long I listen to the edges of old photographs brushing against the delicate contours of memory, and thank god for windows and doors. #30 from Untitled Film Poems Image by … Continue reading →

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In Her Solitude

Posted on October 7, 2020 by John Biscello

Chafing, with matted scales of light, became the cinematic measures by which her solitude was visaged and defined. #29 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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Dim

Posted on October 7, 2020 by John Biscello

There is a tiredness which sleep cannot cure; there is a life, undimmed, surging unprotected beyond these walls. #28 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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Stalking

Posted on October 7, 2020 by John Biscello

To become a vagrant to the territory of one’s own self, requires the right kind of corridor, an elliptical sense of fugue, and footfalls which softly echo a stalker’s unmitigated pursuit. #27-B from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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