Tag Archives: cindy sherman

Cocktail Mixer

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

It wasn’t her house, her nightgown, her anything. And the old woman in the sun hat snoring like a phlegmatic breeze— Who was she? Existential hangovers are the worst, she thought to herself, as she tried to piece together hazy … Continue reading →

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As Above

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

Consider the script– Girl, unmade by past trauma, sees angels, and cedes. #6 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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Missive

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

Letter from Wonderland– Dear Miss So-and-So, Your husband injured himself chasing a young girl in fuzzy pink rabbit ears down a dark narrow hole. Do not expect him home any time soon. Yours Truly, A Secret Admirer.   #5 from … Continue reading →

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The Replacement

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

The course couldn’t be changed, same as the sounds coming from the other side of the door, which belonged to her broken-in replacement. She waited, for something to stop, or perhaps to knock and show that the next move was … Continue reading →

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Soap Drama

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

She thought about it at least once every night. What it would be like if he wasn’t there, if she, with delicate blankness befitting a housewife, mixed his cocktail in a new way a different way, just once, then watched … Continue reading →

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Enigma

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

Rapt fascination– when the enigmatic meets the readily apparent in an effort to fashion and sustain identity from the lore of diminishing returns.   #2 in the Untitled Film Poems series Image by Cindy Sherman

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Legacy

Posted on October 5, 2020 by John Biscello

After watching the bruised legacy of her childhood pass her by out of the corner of her eye, she had developed an astigmatism which, in effect, bred her glaring suspicion of distance, and violent need of its diffuse edges.   … Continue reading →

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As You Desire

Posted on August 26, 2019 by John Biscello

Free from staid context, and the fragile lull of fate, she had come a long unmapped way to create a new set of illusions by which to set and frame her course.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Gone Again

Posted on August 23, 2019 by John Biscello

Under a sunstreaked tree, rough bark against skin, texture of a stolen kiss— She was touched, and saddened too, that these days it was her ghost who did most of her living for her, amidst the brackish ebb and flow … Continue reading →

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The Mission

Posted on August 23, 2019 by John Biscello

There were places she hadn’t been, wilds within that had escaped her gravely silent stalking. A fuse had been lit. Concentration was required. And stillness. The kind of stillness that would bring her face to face with the deeply unremembered … Continue reading →

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