Tag Archives: grief

Echoes Extended

Posted on October 19, 2022 by John Biscello

Grief attends to the bones. And does so listening to the spaces between the hollows where the ghosts are held hissing where loss compounded by fractures gives rise to near distant voices crying out on behalf of all that’s gone … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged Dancing, echoes, fragment, ghosts, grief, Poetry, Prose | Leave a comment

Process of Echoes

Posted on October 19, 2022 by John Biscello

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged bones, fracture, fragment, ghosts, grief, Poetry, Prose, words | Leave a comment

Long Haul

Posted on October 13, 2022 by John Biscello

Grief lies here like an insomniac pining for sleep. Like scissors running dull to the touch of fate. We paper over grief its many wrecks its brittle slates with hordes of torn pages. Forget me nots band aids christ sporting … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged distance, grief, novel, pages, Poetry, Prose, vigil, word | Leave a comment

Where on Earth

Posted on October 13, 2022 by John Biscello

Nineteen rifles and the village was burned to the ground there were nineteen rifles stolen by rebels and then came the awful burning down what was called scorched earth policy. My mother my father my brother were burned down to … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged doll, grief, living and dead, medium, Poetry, Prose, story, tragedy, village, where on earth | Leave a comment

Keepers

Posted on October 12, 2022 by John Biscello

Grief lies here like an insomniac thirsting for sleep. Like scissors dull to the touch of fate. We paper over grief its many wrecks its graying slates with torn pages. Forget me nots band aids christ sporting a porn stache. … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged dead, grief, living, pages, Poetry, Prose, rites, word | Leave a comment

Metronome

Posted on August 10, 2022 by John Biscello

It doesn’t take much to become days of mourning. This world provides plenty of opportunities to convert one into days of mourning. Then days of mourning becomes weeks of mourning. Months of mourning. Years. But it begins with days of … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged days, days of mourning, fragment, grief, nights, Prose, woman | Leave a comment

In the Catacombs of Grief

Posted on August 10, 2022 by John Biscello

In the catacombs of grief, she wandered. She wandered, without thirst, without hunger. This frightened her. Had she lost her basic humanity? Why had she created such elaborate labyrinths? Say that ten times fast, she said to herself. At least … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged catacombs, creation, fragment, grief, labyrinth, moodspells, Prose, wandeirng woman, writer | Leave a comment

Postcard from the Edge

Posted on May 25, 2022 by John Biscello

Posted in Poetry | Tagged days of mourning, grief, life, loss, poem, sadness, what dreams may come | Leave a comment

Tatters

Posted on March 23, 2022 by John Biscello

For many years I asked Grief to wait outside my window, a peripheral guest chancing obscure, fugitive details, and lighted tatters. Have I been a poor host, stranger to my own ghost and remnants?

Posted in Poetry | Tagged grief, Light, loss, poem, shadow | Leave a comment

Wendigo

Posted on September 9, 2020 by John Biscello

Long-distance shot of a snowy landscape, a tundra. Completely silent. A MAN enters the frame, running. He is wearing a bulky white parka, its fur-lined hood pulled over his head, and flying a fire-orange kite. We continue to see the … Continue reading →

Posted in Cinema, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged film, grief, inner landscape, John Biscello, sorrow, the journey, wendigo, Winter | Leave a comment