Tag Archives: photo

Storm

Posted on March 5, 2018 by John Biscello

At night, Rorschach wraiths, born of light’s role play with rain– Woman, wet, enclosed.   (Photo by Anthony Distefano)

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Rain

Posted on March 4, 2018 by John Biscello

Mist leavening mood, Noir, by any other name– In rain, lovers prey.   (Photo by Anthony Distefano)

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Hallway

Posted on March 4, 2018 by John Biscello

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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Distance

Posted on March 2, 2018 by John Biscello

Fringing the stark shadow of a lucid twig, two fallen leaves court from the distance of metaphor.

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Opaque

Posted on March 2, 2018 by John Biscello

Rebirthing, within fathomless hues, beyond the opaque rim, and vanishing, someone waits to claim your life anew.

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Word

Posted on March 2, 2018 by John Biscello

Not burning, not siege, not flood, not cold front, not atomic scourge, can destroy the Word, a lasting first, and inviolable measure, voiced to raise itself eternally anew.

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Man on a Bicycle

Posted on February 28, 2018 by John Biscello

The man, to make a living, had plastered hundreds of faces upon walls, but there was something about this one which held him captive. It wasn’t just the stardom of her name, its siren-call, but the sheer magnitude of artifice, … Continue reading →

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Scene

Posted on February 28, 2018 by John Biscello

She was an accident waiting to happen, came the whispers. Not the kind of woman you’d want to be seen out with, muttered one Mack to another. I always knew she’d wind up like this, cried a woman, mirroring her … Continue reading →

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Anne and the Clouds

Posted on February 27, 2018 by John Biscello

Anne, lovely disturbed Anne, pinned by gravity, and bedded to cobbles, cherishing the vagrant destiny of clouds, and calming distance.

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Diane Arbus

Posted on February 27, 2018 by John Biscello

The camera, doesn’t revolt upon you, per se, but its mirror, when reversed, convicts an image which forges your name, if not your identity.     (Photo by Allan Arbus)

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