Frank J. Tassone

Tag: AprPad

  • Nightmarescape

    I sketch the impressions that even now fade away. A night sky, a street filled with teens partying, cavourting, fighting. They close around me, and I just manage to break away. Another street, with darkened brownstones, and commercial buildings in the distance. I walk with someone I call a friend, although I do not recognize…

  • Darkness and Light Dialoguing

    I get a bad rap, he says, and I just roll my eyes. What do you expect, I say, They’re blind around you. And they see just fine around you, he snaps, ain’t you special? I sigh, for it’s always like this lately. Complain, complain, complain! Is it my fault they depend on their eyes,…

  • Abecedarian Advise: a #TankaProse

    Autumnal clouds bare entertwining branches corral the sun distant Danann laughter echoing in the wind Forget the rules. Go where the wind whispers. Hold in your heart the sublimnity. Intuition trumps reason at times like these. Just because you can’t explain doesn’t detract from its authenticity. Kindness is a difficult choice. License is even harder.…

  • Little Things Noticed While Grieving

    You are so still. No rising and falling in your chest. You mouth lies wide open. Someone closed your eyes. The same tepid sunlight partially fills the room and casts shadows throughout. A glass of unfinished pepsi remains by your bedside. You are so still. But morticians styled your hair and applied your makeup. You…

  • Sorrowful Release: a solo #renga

    Crescent moon-blown ripples on evening tide how these tear-culled thoughts arise each brightening night First Quarter a scythe-eyed glimps across an empty road how this dust-tongued mouth forms the right word at the wrong time Gibbous a bell-voiced cry no one hears how one dark-vowelled word ends a measure of joy Full Moon a tide-looped…

  • Notre Dame

    I visited Notre Dame in the Spring of 1992. The interior looked dark at the time, as few candles burned and fewer lights shined. The light from the Rose stainglass captivated me, as it had done for countless pilgrams through out the centuries. Otherwise, my visit felt pedestrian. I stare today at the video feeds…

  • New York: a #TankaProse Tribute

    Empire State. Where the Interstates wind between the wind of Lake Erie and the Atlantic. Where the Statue of Liberty raises her torch to the Golden Gate, and the Niagara falls. Empire State. Where the State capitol rests one-hundred fifty-two miles from the flow of world capital pumping through its commercial heart. Where Apple Orchards…

  • Devil’s Deal Magic: a #writephoto #TankaProse

    Does your life mean so little to you? Would you truly surrender it for fortune and fame? Go down to the crossroads, then. Look back on the road from which you’ve come. Look ahead to the path before you. Glance right and left. Then straight ahead, once more. The verdant field, the copse of trees,…