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Meta
Tag Archives: fragment
Pirate Radio
Hips don’t lie. They are the truth-telling giants and the whistle-blowers transmitting through pirate radio. They are also the catacombs and weather satellites of one’s cumulative genealogy. When an old person falls and breaks their hip, it is not … Continue reading
Hips Don’t Lie
Posted in Audio, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized, Video
Tagged body, dreams, fear, fragment, grief, hips, memory, pieces, Spoken Word, what we hold
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3 AM
Sometimes we wake up at 3am and we don’t know who we are, how we got there (where is there), why anything. Why at all. In these ghostly interstices, we try to locate ourselves in absentia—we awaken to no purpose, … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged 3am, fragment, identity, in progress, memory, Poetry, speculation, story, who what where when
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Slight
A young woman came to see me yesterday. I know it’s my daughter, yet something stops the word daughter from coming out of my mouth, any of my mouths. There is word-daughter and there is daughter-daughter and word-daughter is … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged archive, daughter, father, fiction, fragment, history, in progress, memory, pieces, story, storytelling
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A Moveable Freeze
The first spots were discovered, and contrary to my sense of fiction, they had nothing to do with extraterrestrials or loneliness. Nor poverty. Soon, no exact timetable, but soon my memories would no longer be mine. I would no … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged fiction, fragment, in progress, memory, process, Prose, story
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Outpost
They don’t know my name. Thank god. If they knew my name, they’d curse it, they’d turn it into meat scrap. The stories have to keep changing. And the characters. Or they will find us. I realize I am … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged arctic circle, brothers, family, fiction, fragment, Prose, sisters, story, storytelling, survival, work in progress
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Because the Night
Half-punk-scarecrow, half-mystic-urchin, Patti Smith seems to exist on the yellowed edges of saudade: the time-carved café table, the books she carried with her on her trips (as trusted and beloved companions), the way she packs light like The Fool, her … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged artist, because the night, fragment, imagination, music, patti smith, Poetry, Prose, romantic, vision, visionary, writer
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Sepia
Nostalgia is a death-trap, eating its own tail and leading nowhere. Nostalgia copulates with ghosts in dusty storage rooms and snakelike corridors. Now and again and again now never is nostalgia’s recipe and calling card. Nostalgia is the last picture … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged calendar, ephemera, eternity, fragment, Literary, nostalgia, photography, Poetry, Prose, time, travel
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Way Station
I walked to the train station at night. I was going to drive. It was a hot day, I had already been out walking in the sun, and I thought—just drive to the train station. But when it was time … Continue reading
Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged america, desolation, fiction, fragment, Prose, railroad, rain, shadows, story, town, train station, travel, writing
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Of Place and Haunt
It was a town caught in the thorny stasis between living and dying, between mortuary and chrysalis. I want to examine why it is I am drawn to places like this, why I always return to this specific feeling of … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged desolation, dilapidated, erosion, fiction, fragment, ghosts, inner world, place, Prose, story, time, town, travel, writing
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John Biscello 