Tag Archives: Winter

This Book Doesn’t Resolve Itself

Posted on April 16, 2026 by John Biscello

“So many novels are built around control. Even when they deal with rupture, they shape it into something we can grapple with. Events lead somewhere. Meaning accumulates in a way that can be tracked. By the end, the reader understands … Continue reading →

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Cabin Fever

Posted on March 16, 2026 by John Biscello

“I follow them, winding my way up and down several snow dunes, not unlike clouds that have fallen to earth and frozen. The footprints are guiding me toward a cabin. It is a yellow cabin, the yellow of autumn and … Continue reading →

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Wendigo

Posted on February 26, 2026 by John Biscello

In my forthcoming novel, No One Dreams in Color, the protagonist, Andrew, has been deeply inspired by an experimental, nine-minute film called Wendigo. The spirit and mythical reonsance of the “wendigo,” an Algonquin legend that speaks to a ravenous creature … Continue reading →

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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 →

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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 →

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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 →

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Conjugal

Posted on February 19, 2025 by John Biscello

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

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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 →

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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 →

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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.

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