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Meta
Tag Archives: John Biscello
Wendigo, a Winter Story
A man in a bulky white parka is running across a snowy landscape. The hood pulled over his head is lined with seal-gray fur. He is wearing plastic goggles that are caked in frost. … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged ghosts, grief, ice, John Biscello, love, melancholy, Prose, sadness, snow, sorrow, story, wendigo, Winter
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2-Sentence Horror Story
Will you marry me, and promise to be mine forever and ever? Yes, she agreed, one foot in the grave, the other scraping forward.
Unfinished
There is an epitaph marking the life we have lived from the ones we have not. This is where I begin to separate the words from their cause, running on, unfinished, end to start.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dream, epitaph, John Biscello, Literary, pages, photo, poems, Poetry, rebirth, soul, words
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Corset
In a vain attempt, she corseted herself in green wind and cellophane, votive to a thin whip of air. As she lay there, colors emptying to gray, before the round voices and fast hands came, she fell in and saw … Continue reading
Innocence
Blindly, blindly, blindly, she reaps every choice from my scythe and asking. I live with brute innocence and murder in her heart. I am not her child, I am her fiction, her sad fable and paling wrath.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Beauty, dream, enclosure, innocence, John Biscello, love, poem, Poetry, rebirth, sadness, sorrow, wrath
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Dam
She swallows stones, or is made to—what feels like a martyred plunge of boulders. I am, by proxy, crushed. Is this what is meant by god-dam? The circulatory flush of light to dark dammed, and no god gets in … Continue reading
Glean
It came to me, a pensive glean, a vision. Tomorrowtime when we, the Inners, will no longer just be metaphysical whispers or codified concepts. Tomorrowtime when the Outers will have found the means to extrapolate us, to call us into … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged air, awakening, cherish, door, dream, inner, inner children, John Biscello, Light, love, poem, rebirth, rip, slit, tear, unison
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Golem
To become more or less human, and right now I am less, much less, palsied, unlit, a compulsory golem riveting shallows and depths.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged abandoned, depths, golem, human, John Biscello, Light, photo, poem, rebirth, ruins, shallows, unlit
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Plaything
Wafting from afar, the intimate rumor of a divine toy, a cryptic plaything, implications in tow. A tonic and pacifier of blank rages; buoy and anti-freeze to sudden plunges into sub-zero climate. These conditions cannot be bested, but they can … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged black and white, dream, epitaph, Heaven, John Biscello, love, photo, plaything, Poetry, rumor, spirit, surreal
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Dark
I. I have begun to name and catalogue the different types of dark. It helps. Warm-dark, cave-dark, void-dark, womb-dark, sleep-dark, Eros-dark, blank-dark, siege-dark, and there is the anonymous dark that gets in your head and behind your eyes and in … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Artwork, black, black painting, boxes, Cy Twombly, dark, John Biscello, painting, poem, Poetry
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John Biscello 