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Meta
Tag Archives: Poetry
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.
Unfinished
There is an epitaph marking the life we have lived from the ones we have not. This is where I begin to separate the words from their cause, running on, unfinished, end to start.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dream, epitaph, John Biscello, Literary, pages, photo, poems, Poetry, rebirth, soul, words
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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
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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