Tag Archives: Van Gogh

Tramps

Posted on November 16, 2022 by John Biscello

It has become hymnal. The lasting proof. The lusting after the lasting proof the music. This is not proust. Then again everything is proust because everyone in search of lost time cycling through guises manias assassins guesses all the rest. … Continue reading →

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Bask

Posted on December 2, 2018 by John Biscello

Every last star ghosts its own holy rapture– we, a part of, bask.

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In Stars

Posted on December 2, 2018 by John Biscello

Behind starry veils, embers crackle blue and gold– You were there, dancing.

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Claim

Posted on October 25, 2016 by John Biscello

She, bidden by valid tense, unhooked a claim of stars, and lighted her grief, inverting the symmetry of arc.

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Torch Song

Posted on July 7, 2016 by John Biscello

The aureate secrets of silence, stuff stars are made from, and us, cocooned in gauzy slumbers, wink and blink and nod till well-scored we become cinders in a torch song, long-since faded.

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Van Gogh, Wheat Field

Posted on May 18, 2016 by John Biscello

It is what you might call omen-brushed yellow, a virulent scare, its quotient graded just below dark, and subtly so. A sky raining crows, like a scandal of mustaches, or handlebar dissent. Yellow crosses daring a blight, or braving a … Continue reading →

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Cursive

Posted on May 3, 2016 by John Biscello

Stars, ancient cinema illuminating a silent revival in cursive.    

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