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Tag Archives: dreams
Speakeasy
Dreams are like speakeasies for the soul. A secret password so you can enter, unchecked moral boundaries allowing you to trespass and indulge freely in the vagrant and illicit, after hours pressing of bootleg vinyl that places scorched scarabs in … Continue reading
Housewarming
“The already human being in whom I had sought shelter for my body yielded nothing to the storm. The house clung close to me, like a she-wolf, and at times, I could smell her odor penetrating maternally to my very … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged dreams, henri bosco, house, John Biscello, malicroix, mother, poem
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Sanctuary
“It is on the plane of the daydream and not on that of facts that childhood remains alive and poetically useful within us. Through this permanent childhood, we maintain the poetry of the past. To inhabit oneirically the house we … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged childhood, dreams, gaston bachelard, home, John Biscello, poem, poetics of space
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Desire
Within the rounded sermon of the inanimate, a favored coursing, by which light spreads its wordless fingers upon the world’s private longing.
What A Little Moonlight Can Do
In that place of memory and moonlight where dreams pool into soft beautiful wrecks, I found her, casually adrift in a limbo of her own legislation, and at the slightest touch, under she went, the moonlight left trembling in remembrance … Continue reading
Transcience
Where were you last night, my dreams asked of my silence— Between worlds, I longed.
Rising
Dreams, undeferred, coupled with Hope, that thing unfettered, to keep us company and warm our solitude, as we stumble bravely through a long night’s journey into the bated gospel of days rising to claim us.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dreams, faith, hope, John Biscello, juneteenth, love, poem, Poetry, transformation, we the people, what dreams may come
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Case in Point
Images tell us the right kind of nothing, how one way or another you as a witness will prove unreliable in a world governed by parallels. (Image from Lost Highway)
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged david lynch, doppelganger, dreams, John Biscello, lost highway, patricia arquette, poem, this haunted universe
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