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Meta
Tag Archives: Poetry
Pirate Radio
Hips don’t lie. They are the truth-telling giants and the whistle-blowers transmitting through pirate radio. They are also the catacombs and weather satellites of one’s cumulative genealogy. When an old person falls and breaks their hip, it is not … Continue reading
Gremlins
I can no longer remember where I was when it happened, only that it happened, it must have happened. Sometimes we cry silent recordings in our bones, or guts, or maybe it is our hips that are the primary … Continue reading
3 AM
Sometimes we wake up at 3am and we don’t know who we are, how we got there (where is there), why anything. Why at all. In these ghostly interstices, we try to locate ourselves in absentia—we awaken to no purpose, … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged 3am, fragment, identity, in progress, memory, Poetry, speculation, story, who what where when
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New Romantics
The call, and calling…
Posted in Audio, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Theater, Uncategorized, Video
Tagged . spoken word, calling, dreams, liminal groove, lyrcis to go, new romantics, Poetry, shamanic bop, slow burn, verses from the abstract, visionaries, visionspeak, wonder, wordpray
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American Poem
Posted in Audio, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized, Video
Tagged anne sexton, ginsberg, lyrics to go, Poetry, Spoken Word, verses from the abstract, vision, visionary, voice, voices rising, whitman and company, word to the mother, Word Up, wordpray
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Goblins
Posted in Audio, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Video
Tagged daughters, fable, family, ghosts, goblins, menace to society, Poetry, shadows, sisters, Spoken Word, the vanished, voices, writing
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Goblins
Red wind spirits. They carry people off. Mostly mothers, no, not mostly mothers, than is an allegorical kink, an innate twist, it feels like mostly-mothers, and so legend instantly concretizes itself in that feeling-force. The red wind spirits are also … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged family, goblins, grief, loss, mothers and daughters, Poetry, Prose, red wind spirits, slow burn, vanished
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Scraps
Each one of us are curating our own reality, our own collections. Philosophy is a crooked thumb trying to hitch a lift to the stars. I listen to the wind sing, but can’t understand the words. The No Trespassing sign … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged contemplation, dreams, fiction, fragments, language, music, philosophy, Poetry, reveries, self expression, solitude, story, vision, voice, wonder, words
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Because the Night
Half-punk-scarecrow, half-mystic-urchin, Patti Smith seems to exist on the yellowed edges of saudade: the time-carved café table, the books she carried with her on her trips (as trusted and beloved companions), the way she packs light like The Fool, her … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged artist, because the night, fragment, imagination, music, patti smith, Poetry, Prose, romantic, vision, visionary, writer
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John Biscello 