Tag Archives: poem

Cloak and Dagger

Posted on July 26, 2019 by John Biscello

Some shadows become women when no one is looking. Consider it the residual alchemy of fallout and mortal longing.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Among the Missing

Posted on July 26, 2019 by John Biscello

Bare white knuckles grazed her night-bitten lobe as she turned up her collar to the cold and was seized with a  grave sense of how lonely she had been and how much further she had to go to grieve the … Continue reading →

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Still of the Night

Posted on July 26, 2019 by John Biscello

It is like having a piece of hard existential candy lodged in your larynx while all around you voices demand the strictest means of geometry by which to constellate your semblance.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Breathing Lessons

Posted on July 25, 2019 by John Biscello

Goggles refract light was the first lesson she learned. How to breathe underwater with no apparatus was the second which enabled a lucid surrogate life below the surface.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Wisp

Posted on July 25, 2019 by John Biscello

She believed there was a place for her,  a venerated quarry, or wedge of corner, somewhere that wouldn’t be overlooked by the gossamer sentience of light falling.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Dusk to Dusk

Posted on July 25, 2019 by John Biscello

Cased in lucid glare she modeled herself as a pin-up sacrifice to the ribbed shadows that dyed her silence.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Holy Night

Posted on July 24, 2019 by John Biscello

It began, innocently, with the allure of velvet-dark and musky incense, then it became something else, or she did, a girl with a ribbed dream-life, in which she and God found each other, spread severely thin upon the wetted meshes … Continue reading →

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Somewhere

Posted on July 24, 2019 by John Biscello

Chafing, with matted scales of light, became the cinematic measures by which her solitude was visaged and defined.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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Current

Posted on July 24, 2019 by John Biscello

There is a tiredness which sleep cannot cure; there is a life, undimmed, surging unprotected beyond these walls.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)    

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Caligari’s Bride

Posted on July 24, 2019 by John Biscello

It was a wrong turn, modeling a cobbled geography of hell, that led her down and away from the sorceress she had been once upon a time in someone else’s kingdom of rape and vampires.   (Photo by Cindy Sherman)

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