Tag Archives: Winter

Crossroads

Posted on November 26, 2025 by John Biscello

To say I am standing outside in the cold, the snowblowy cold, hatless, a gray overcoat—this would be a lie, this would be fabricated—as I am sitting inside, in my warm home, at my desk, trying to convince someone … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged creating, existential concerns, ghost story, ghosts, invention of solitude, overcoat, Prose, story, Winter, winter's tale, writing | 1 Comment

Winter

Posted on November 17, 2025 by John Biscello

I say my mother’s grief was white on white … I say this, but this is not true all the time. The colors change. My mother’s grief has been pink, blue, red. Yet, more and more, when I am … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged Blue, bond, ceremony, family, grief, mother, Poetry, Prose, red, seasons, son, Winter, Yellow | Leave a comment

Fins

Posted on September 9, 2025 by John Biscello

The men I have given myself to are scorching a map onto my skin. I’d say it was a map of the underworld, but I don’t know if that’s altogether true. It seems too dramatic, too much like fantasy. And … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged crickets, fiction, girl, map, paper town, Poetry, Prose, sadness, skin, story, Winter | Leave a comment

Conjugal

Posted on February 19, 2025 by John Biscello

Hoarfrost mingling with spring dew– Hunger, sated to bloom.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged dew, frost, hunger, life, lust, poem, seasons, sensual, spring, Winter | Leave a comment

Angels

Posted on December 20, 2023 by John Biscello

Imagine snow. Imagine the symmetry of falling snow. Imagine the quiltlike cocoon of snow covering earth. Imagine the silence of snow sounding everywhere softly. Imagine you are old and cold in snow. Imagine you are young and running in snow. … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged angels, musing, poem, Prose, silence, snow, symmetry, the dead, Winter, words | Leave a comment

The Bones and the Blue

Posted on November 11, 2020 by John Biscello

“I do an awful lot of thinking and dreaming about things in the past and future—the timelessness of the rocks and the hills—all the people who have existed there. I prefer winter and fall when you feel the bone structure … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged Andrew Wyeth, John Biscello, solitude, stories, Winter | Leave a comment

Love Is

Posted on October 27, 2020 by John Biscello

I miss you already, the sun-kissed daisy whispered to the migrant flake of snow, which clung like a hopeful bead to the daisy’s delicate petal before dying a lover’s death and melting.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged daisy, John Biscello, love, poem, seasons, snow, summer, Winter | 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

Homecoming

Posted on December 28, 2018 by John Biscello

The slow, long walk home, across a frozen tundra– The sun smiles, faintly.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged haiku, homeward bound, John Biscello, poem, the heart is a lonely hunter, wendigo, Winter | Leave a comment

Runes

Posted on November 13, 2018 by John Biscello

There is the cracking– thin, brittle chafings of bones begging to splinter, to silver holy music through darkened hollows, and there is us, Love’s loneliest brood, spelled out like vagrant relics, like glistening runes, upon God’s most silent scattered linen.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged God, John Biscello, leaves, love poem, snow, Winter | Leave a comment