Tag: dVerse
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Such Transience
The Cherry Blossoms that so delighted us rained down on the grass below. As more green foliage grew in, more blossoms fell to join the fallen. Only two weeks after peak bloom, not a blossom remains. Almost 28 years ago, A 23-year-old me stepped into his first classroom as a teaching assistant in a suburban…
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Incandescent
A single match set the bonfire ablaze. I can see your face, incandescent in the light of those flames. I long for your eyes to catch mine. I fear your eyes catching mine. As if they would… as the last blossoms fall waning moon Mish holds down Quadrille #200! at dVerse today, where we light…
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Indigenous Ironies
Frank and I visited the National Museum of the American Indian in New York City today. Located in the Alexander Hamilton US Custom House, the museum opens to a grand, oval-shaped rotunda. Murals of milestones from the US appear, alongside representations of the explorers famously associated with the US. Ironic, considering how their expeditions impacted…
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Vernal Vision
cherry blossoms petals afloat on the wind fall to the ground like they never happened petals afloat on the wind how the crows fly like they never happened this moonrise how the crows fly fall to the ground this moonrise cherry blossoms spring fever savoring every minute over at dVerse, Merril pubtends a MTB that…
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On Canine Love & Loss
could I guess at my neighbor’s love? her gentle petting of her mixed-breed boxer between Insta-views the back and forth of his head how he nuzzles her eager for more loving attention she’s quick to give reminding me of my own, lost mixed-breed how I delved my hands deep in her rust-gray fur savored her…
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Boxed Within
a box forged of cold steel fired within the frigid heart of compressed terror inside last remains of innocence consumed by loathing and rage hidden within a heart’s shadow from which emerges the dragon, awaiting innocence’s ride Over at dVerse, Kim pubtends a Tuesday Poetics, where we write box poems. The pub is open! Come…
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Lunar Amity
(Photo by John McKaveney: Bright Moon) I can’t remember when we met. Was I truly just a boy? Gazing up at you, as you coyly peaked out of the clouds, some star-obscured night. I can certainly remember the loves I brought before you. Our deep embraces, so luscious with savored intimacy, offered up to you like…
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A Gates of Fire Reminiscence
Consider the contours of the shield the one left behind and for that sin Spartan trainees forced to phalanx an old oak Later, those Hoplites would oppose the Persian charge at Thermopylae bearing, or born away on their shields 300 their sacrifice for Greece Ms. Jade, over at dVerse, hosts Quadrille Monday, where we write…
Frank J. Tassone 