Tag Archives: memory

Geist

Memory, like stone tapes, like hardened slabs of analog recalling the icy geist of my childhood in a Brooklyn basement, revisited.

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Honeycomb

The deep bass drum of laughter, a resounding prayer, no more forgetting who I am, the well of memory has been stirred, and my bones, in turn, have been dared to splinter, the cracks between worlds, widening, inviting me to … Continue reading

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Owl

Owl, owl, burning white, your gaze, peerless, and sublime, bearing braised volumes of silence within fathomless archives– Who dares to confront the suddenness of history, all at once, unblinking? Who dares to initiate the sorrow of millennia, in a single … Continue reading

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Hallway

This could be titled John Biscello Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, could be titled Romancing the Ghosts, or perhaps no title at all, just a flickering reminiscence trapped in a photo snapped by a childhood friend who swears that he occasionally … Continue reading

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Indelible

To ebb, the startling clarity of a stolen kiss sentenced to null and ghost, to lips indelibly parted then closed.

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Feelism

Feelism: emotional subjectivity filtered through the prism of Memory; story-seeds rooted in sensual Nostalgia. In my book, this is what happened has always taken a backseat to this is how it felt.

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Slant

Emily Dickinson advised that we “tell it slant.” This makes sense. Telling it slant is a natural outgrowth of living it slant. Oblique paths and slanted paths dominate my sense of inner geography. Dylan Thomas wrote: “The memories of childhood … Continue reading

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Clemency

At love’s wake, Clemency, claiming the casualty of mask, bleeds gently the half-moon lids of pink and purpose, how we chance to fade into strangers at the risk of memory.

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Winter, a Love Story

Winter’s brides, wearing long white scarves of sleet and song, touching pale sky to blue lips, breathing memory and frost; their sorrow and spectral want grows hands  that enclose me, a robust crush, matrimonial in its grip, until I am … Continue reading

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Sleet

Scattered, like numinous sleet of commas, the faeries intimated bright shards of language, not yet discovered or long since forgotten.

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