Tag: haibun
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Oh, Pasta Fazool!
The rich, tomatoey flavor. The hearty comfort of cannellini beans, diced pancetta, and grated parmesan cheese. The savory texture of ditalini mixed with those beans. The luscious “hmmmm” in every spoonful. Is there a more perfect cold-weather soup than Pasta Fazool? I experienced a culinary epiphany the first time I tasted the Neapolitan classic. It was…
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Lupus Similis Mei
You offer me the harvest bouquet you know I love. I savor their fragrance so much more deeply than you can possibly know. I glimpse the subtle sheen of your sweat. The pulse at your throat, twitching like a hare’s thumping foot, as your pale blue eyes meet mine. Do you truly love me as…
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Free-soaring Folly
How long will free-soarers ignore the fearful, trilling songs of unknown longing from their caged compatriots? How long will free-soarers fly on winds assured off the backs of their caged bretheren? How long before those free-soarers alight on a tree rooted in just soil, and find themselves permenantly perched, while their caged compatriots fly free?…
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PSA: An Accounting
Seven years ago, I launched “American Haijin.” I did so because, as my tagline says, haikai poetry matters. Of course, one can read that either as a verb or a noun. Either way, the intent is the same: sharing haikai poetry. That’s proven difficult during the past two years. I’ve struggled through one of the…
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A Novel Viewpoint
Billy Collins says that a poet’s job is to look out a window and write what one see’s. As I sit in the sun room of our new second-floor apartment, I appreciate his insight. The closest window overlooks the unique houses across the street. It offers a view of the towering oaks behind them. It…
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This Ebb and Flow
The day began with dizziness. The day ends with aches. Such is the state of affairs after fifty, after a routine vaccine during an annual physical. The night commences with soreness. What will the night end with, other than exhaution. Such is the aftermath post-day after the shot. As day turns to night, what comes,…
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Bridging
She lifts her torch to me. I do not return the favor. I’m too busy, stretching across the Bay. Bearing the Golden Gate from which they named me. Offering a way in, a way out, a way across. A way through. There is always a way. choppy water as the micro climate ends the moon…
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An Equinoxal Experience
A blanket of clouds eclipsed the sun. The temperature dropped accordingly. & the restaurant we intended to have dinner in had no open tables for two hours. Tired from our day of sightseeing Rochester, we followed our sorry-not-sorry host’s directions to a Sushi/Ramen restaurant located in the same mall. This one had plenty of seats.…
Frank J. Tassone 