Tag Archives: untitled film poems

Shadow Play

Posted on October 13, 2020 by John Biscello

Some shadows become women when no one is looking. Consider it the residual alchemy of fallout and mortal longing. #55 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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In the Still of the Night

Posted on October 13, 2020 by John Biscello

Bare white knuckles grazed her nightbitten 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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Alfred Hitchcock Presents

Posted on October 12, 2020 by John Biscello

Illuminated, but with razors, the shadow found a face to give its cinematic debut a twist on types fitted to escape plans in small, forgotten rooms. #53 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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Unmade

Posted on October 12, 2020 by John Biscello

Rumpled, with a sense of grave toil, and casual slips of crucial error– Was this what love meant, or did? Could that be all? The woman settled into the shape of her day, and pined for something remote and unspecified, … Continue reading →

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Semblance

Posted on October 12, 2020 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. #51 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy Sherman

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Prop List

Posted on October 11, 2020 by John Biscello

It had become a question of values, and proper arrangement. She had burned with a nightly longing to know the deathly stillness of essential props, as if life was in the market for high-end interior models to place first. #50 … Continue reading →

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Through A Glass Darkly

Posted on October 11, 2020 by John Biscello

She paused, to reflect upon how, in this house, there would never be a shortage of glasses, they’d never run out. Forever, the company of herself, abolished in the throes of forgetting. #49 from Untitled Film Poems Image by Cindy … Continue reading →

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Twilight Zone

Posted on October 11, 2020 by John Biscello

The waiting wasn’t anything new. It was the open spaces, the promise of breathing room, which was eerily unfamiliar. She catalogued what she had packed, and what she had left behind,. while assuming the burden of distance to match the … Continue reading →

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The Sun Also Rises

Posted on October 11, 2020 by John Biscello

As the water softened the earth in the garden, she peered out from under her sunhat to gauge if that dark thing coiled by the fence was a snake, and if so, by god, could it be smiling? #47 from … Continue reading →

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Water Baby

Posted on October 9, 2020 by John Biscello

As a child, they had tried to scare her with stories of Jaws, and other undersea dangers. Her mother wanted her to be safe, which meant keeping her as close to shore as possible. Now, out there, alone, bobbing, she … Continue reading →

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