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Meta
Tag Archives: travel
Born Yesterday
Posted in Artwork, Audio, photography, Poetry, Prose
Tagged Audio, beginnings, endings, myth, photography, Poetry, Prose, travel, words
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Round Trip
There is a slow lasting burn on the road to heaven which admits meekness as a course of rightful inheritance, as a ringed torch song for reentry into the self dispossessed.
Transience
She never did go anywhere, you know? Some ghosts become totemic stand-bys for the lives they never lived, for potentialties that passed, in solemn wisp, from dream to dream, then fade. #44 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman
Posted in Artwork, Cinema, photography, Poetry
Tagged cindy sherman, John Biscello, photography, Poetry, station, travel, untitled film poems, untitled film still
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Transients
She was a matter of falling, and scaling the air, and I, street to her clouds, abandoned myself to growing realer and realer in vivid contrast to her sofly fading out and in.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged airplane, dreamlife, ephemera, fade out and in, John Biscello, love, poem, travel
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Paris
I have never been to Paris, and so I must write about my time there, how Hemingway threw the gauntlet at my feet and challenged me to an armwrestling match three times, beating me each and every time, and Hemingway … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dreams, inspiration, John Biscello, love, myth, ode, paris, poem, travel, tribute, writers
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Road
Waiting, still, waiting, the unbearable lightness of life between homes. (Photo by Cindy Sherman)
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged cindy sherman, girl, haiku, highway, John Biscello, lightness, photo, poem, road, travel, waiting
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Backroads
Traveling mapless backroads, I found heaven looking for me.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged backroads, destiny, guidance, Heaven, John Biscello, poem, Poetry, search, spirit, travel
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Flea Bitten
Greyhound: A sleek, streamlined, swift-as-the-wind breed of dog. A coughing, sputtering, wheezing, smoke-blowing mutt, prone to flea infestation. I spent a great deal of my twenties canned inside the dank sweaty armpit of travel Americana: Greyhound. It was an … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged bus, essay, greyhound, John Biscello, Prose, romanticism, stray passages, travel, wanderlust, writer's life, writing life
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Blank
It was my last dream, its ending a blank respite between acts and lives.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged bus stop, dream, fog, greyhound, haiku, John Biscello, mist, poem, Poetry, travel
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John Biscello 