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Meta
Tag Archives: John Biscello
Dance
I get so sleepy and restless and roiled and charged. If only they knew what they called world was simply a clusterfuck of particles dreaming of dance partners.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Artwork, dance, dream, Gustav Klimt, John Biscello, painting, particles, poem, Poetry, sleep, Stars, woman
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Arclight
Bidden by tatters, and gravity’s mutable arc, the palpitations guide me. They are subtle, duly engaged, a milk-slow run of shivers. Bracing the rim, I peer out of cavedark: everything is sudden, color-soaked, a ferocious din and melt, fringed shawls … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged abstract, Abstract Expressionism, birth, dream, eptiaph, fire, God, John Biscello, Light, Mark Rothko, poem, Poetry, red, Yellow
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Deluge
It is both pleasure, and an epitaph to pleasure, at the same time. When the phenomena occurs and the colors run and slash and slit down upon me in ravels of deluge. Spring-green, shell-pink, sky-blue, bled-red, egg-heaven, grief-yellow. I, a … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged 1950s, abstract, Abstract Expressionism, Artwork, deluge, Jackson Pollock, John Biscello, painting, poem, Poetry
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Pour
So much light poured in, so much passive worth.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged celestial, child, dream, God, John Biscello, Light, love, luminous, mushi-shi, poem, river of light, spirit
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Draft
There are no mirrors here, yet everywhere I see myself, a bated draft of furls, each bearing the right to exist, and respire ably.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged avant-garde, Cinema, dream, experimental, film, furls, John Biscello, Maya Deren, Mirror, poem, Poetry
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Godot Vs. God
In Godot’s waiting room, Heaven-rent, the vacancy sign had been converted into a living epitaph for people choking on bated breath: Here tomorrow, gone today.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged breath, eternity, God, Godot, Heaven, John Biscello, poem, Poetry, rent, samuel beckett, today, tomorrow, waiting
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Levitation
Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress. Anya and I were seated on the rubber mat in the front hallway. We had been playing marbles. Or rather our own version of marbles, which we called Marble Mash. After having … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged Brooklyn, childhood, friends, John Biscello, levitation, Literary, love, mystical, New York, no man's brooklyn, novel
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Arc
It is the mouth birthing a blood-new kiss that begs gravity’s pardon and raises lips to an impossible arc.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged art nouveau, Artwork, erotic, Gustav Klimt, John Biscello, kiss, lips, love, lovers, lust, painting, poem, Poetry, sensual, spirit
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John Biscello 