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Meta
Tag Archives: poem
Endear
Sometimes a word scratched in dark ink onto a page is the loneliest sound in the universe, and yet, what beautiful solitary company these verses endeared to mortal failings.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Beauty, dream, endear, heart, John Biscello, loneliness, love, poem, Poetry, sadness, writing
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Solstice
On the day the Trickster died in vain Winter set in to consecrate its crucifix and initiate the changing of seasons.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged coyote, death, fence, God, John Biscello, nature, New Mexico, poem, Poetry, snow, Taos, Trickster, 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.
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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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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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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