Frank J. Tassone

Tag: dVerse

  • Junteenth: a Journey

    An impeccably-dressed General Lee presented his sword to a slovenly-uniformed General Grant on April 9th of 1865. The army of Virginia, the great hope of the Confederacy, surrendered. The United States Civil War officially ended on May 13th of the same year. What could that mean for Black slaves in and around Galveston, Texas? Their…

  • Domestic Memory

    An apple tree with a shorn trunk, making for a convenient step. The climbs up to it’s largest branch, and the hours spent imagining adventures. childhood dreams… all those eternal summer days The boxes filled with books, toys, and sentimentals. A new bedroom to call my own. childhood nightmares… the calm before storm The mudroom,…

  • Unrelenting

    An assignment. Then two, then many: The “to do” list grows, a field of weeds in bloom. The hours available to meet such responsibilities dwindle before their demand. I plunge foward through the maelstrom, only to be born away. The refrain of a familiar Billy Joel song ever playing in my head… crysalis the striving…

  • Tai Chi Mind

    I. yielding before the onslaught of high tide bearing yin this bow II. grasping fresh soil after the thaw holding yang this lunge III. being atop the peak in the wind beyond bearing and holding this oneness for dVerse Poets MTB: Three Way Split The Pub is open! Come join us!

  • Jedi Games

    I remember the darkened aisle of the UA theater filled to capacity. Dad and I found our seats just as C3PO raised his golden hand over his head, crying, “Help! Please”–and then R2D2 rolled down a rocky trail between canyon walls, and into a jawa ambush. Not yet 7-years-old, I watched “Star Wars” for the…

  • A Desolate Heart

    “Welcome to the desert of the real.” –Morpheaus, from the movie, The Matrix An ever-drying aridity. Step after step across a desert stretching to the horizon. Only the memory of water. Such an exhaustion that the expression “dead on my feet” is a declaration of enthusiasm. Here, in the heart of the desert, words come…

  • Pestilent Encounters: A Traditional-Mongol-Meter #haibun

    A sudden turn in the weather, and noses begin to run… rushing toward the nearest tissue roaming the halls full of snot remember a sneeze is no issue recall a time without rot While not an apocalyptic sign, new Covid cases arise… Still we press on Stunted in our recovery Stalling for time, again and…

  • Manifesting Presence

    Could it be any different? emerging night stretching through the last light of day twisted intestines unknotting after this day recuperating these temperature shifts taking their toll gentle trembling as this body gets on track this silence It could be only what it is. for dVerse Poets’ Quadrille #161 (pubtended by Merril)