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Tag Archives: ode
The Last Days of Jack Kerouac, a film-poem
1. Setting: A waterfront saloon. The wooden floor thatched in dull golden sawdust plus the acrid scent of piss wafting in from the urinal. 2. Cut to: A broad-shouldered man slumped on his barstool. The camera notices that the legs … Continue reading
Posted in Cinema, Poetry
Tagged beat generation, cinema of the mind, film-poem, jack kerouac, John Biscello, movie-mind, ode, poem
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The Girl of My Stars
I practice my grief, I refine it, for when you are gone, for when I am gone— my love for you is reachless, meaning for so many years I carried vagrant distances within me, or they carried me, bated and … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged devotion, John Biscello, lovesong by the sea, ode, poem, starmates, the way of water
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Paris
I have never been to Paris, and so I must write about my time there, how Hemingway threw the gauntlet at my feet and challenged me to an armwrestling match three times, beating me each and every time, and Hemingway … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dreams, inspiration, John Biscello, love, myth, ode, paris, poem, travel, tribute, writers
9 Comments
Romanticism 101
If I were there right there goggle-eyed and flame-pawed between her legs and she began secreting the deepest most lucid mirrors and glaze of honey waft of orange blossoms crushed and enmeshed in heavy musk would that appease my hunger … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Desire, John Biscello, lust, ode, passion, Poetry, romanticism, sensual
1 Comment
Jackson Pollock
Out of silence, and lidded smolder, arose a localized storm. You could say it was a balletic squall forecasting its own tyrant reign and fall, a fate designed to galvanize and then blackout not so gently into that goodnight exit … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged 1950s, abstract, Abstract Expressionism, art, Jackson Pollock, John Biscello, ode, painting, poem, Poetry, spirit, tribute
9 Comments
I Do Not Say
I do not say I love you, but I notice how your fingers twine and wrap around empty, tracing broken circles in the air when you are nervous. I do not say I love you, but there is a spot … Continue reading
