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Meta
Tag Archives: fragment
Bath
Our destinies are molecular, uniformly bonded, an immaculately charged cluster fuck of singing particles wedded to a liminal bubble bath … that is the beginning … we are not alone. We see god drop the soap, intentionally, perhaps the precursor … Continue reading
Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose
Tagged bath, blues, champagne rabies, fragment, God, Prose, tub, words
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Scratch
Once upon a time before people were monsters. When people didn’t eat each other. Out here we’ve got to be careful. I defected. I became fugitive singular. I defected from plural, from we. I defected so as to claim I … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged calamity jane, dust, fragment, i and we, Prose, sad dust days, singular pronoun, the road
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Echoes Extended
Grief attends to the bones. And does so listening to the spaces between the hollows where the ghosts are held hissing where loss compounded by fractures gives rise to near distant voices crying out on behalf of all that’s gone … Continue reading
Process of Echoes
Grief attends to the bones. And does so listening to the spaces between the hollows where the ghosts are held hissing where loss compounded by fractures gives rise to near distant voices crying out on behalf of all that’s gone … Continue reading
Judy Garland
You’ve got to make up your mind, he said. Do you want to fuck Judy Garland or be Judy Garland? It seemed my entire life would be determined by how I responded. I could tell, by the gravelly … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged black and white, childhood, color, dorothy, fragment, judy garland, oz, Prose
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Borneo on Mars
There is the glass ashtray. The mangled cigarettes. The hotel room. The window open with the breeze coming in, ruffling the curtains. The breeze is lace fingers. Tiny fingers. There is the unevenly applied lipstick. The besieged housemaid. There is … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged borneo, every story, fragment, mars, mexico maybe, place somewhere, Prose
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Cherry and Claudia
She asked me to touch her. Down there. It’s been so long, she said. I feel like a coffin. Just use your fingers. I was reluctant. When she said—It’s just your hand, it’s not you—I thought—It’s just my hand, not … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged fingers, fragment, hands, sex, the sea, two women, wheneverwhyever
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Strange Angels
The days fly into the blue and disappear, and your mind, in its memory-making, contains the disappeared days as film archive. I want to set fire to the archive. Burn all the films. Watch the celluloid twist and incinerate. I … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged angels, blue ones, film arcehive, fragment, high priestess, mysticism, Prose
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Metronome
It doesn’t take much to become days of mourning. This world provides plenty of opportunities to convert one into days of mourning. Then days of mourning becomes weeks of mourning. Months of mourning. Years. But it begins with days of … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged days, days of mourning, fragment, grief, nights, Prose, woman
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John Biscello 