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Meta
Tag Archives: Poetry
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
Plaything
Wafting from afar, the intimate rumor of a divine toy, a cryptic plaything, implications in tow. A tonic and pacifier of blank rages; buoy and anti-freeze to sudden plunges into sub-zero climate. These conditions cannot be bested, but they can … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged black and white, dream, epitaph, Heaven, John Biscello, love, photo, plaything, Poetry, rumor, spirit, surreal
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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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Arclight
Bidden by tatters, and gravity’s mutable arc, the palpitations guide me. They are subtle, duly engaged, a milk-slow run of shivers. Bracing the rim, I peer out of cavedark: everything is sudden, color-soaked, a ferocious din and melt, fringed shawls … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged abstract, Abstract Expressionism, birth, dream, eptiaph, fire, God, John Biscello, Light, Mark Rothko, poem, Poetry, red, Yellow
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Deluge
It is both pleasure, and an epitaph to pleasure, at the same time. When the phenomena occurs and the colors run and slash and slit down upon me in ravels of deluge. Spring-green, shell-pink, sky-blue, bled-red, egg-heaven, grief-yellow. I, a … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged 1950s, abstract, Abstract Expressionism, Artwork, deluge, Jackson Pollock, John Biscello, painting, poem, Poetry
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Draft
There are no mirrors here, yet everywhere I see myself, a bated draft of furls, each bearing the right to exist, and respire ably.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged avant-garde, Cinema, dream, experimental, film, furls, John Biscello, Maya Deren, Mirror, poem, Poetry
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Godot Vs. God
In Godot’s waiting room, Heaven-rent, the vacancy sign had been converted into a living epitaph for people choking on bated breath: Here tomorrow, gone today.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged breath, eternity, God, Godot, Heaven, John Biscello, poem, Poetry, rent, samuel beckett, today, tomorrow, waiting
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John Biscello 