Frank J. Tassone

Tag: haibun

  • Contracting Impressions

    Constellations, bearing light hundreds, to thousands of years old to our eyes. Light, older still, from stars beyond our capacity for observation, streaking across the void. An expanding edge, beyond which defies imagination, stretching further and further from the 13.4 billion-lightyears away center of it all. Imagine the entire universe is one cell of one…

  • Foolish Notions: a #tankaprose (4/1/23)

    4/1/23: April musings A submission due, and yet an unmet requirement remains. A text asking for an ETA is left unanswered. An overcast sky, promising a persistent drizzle, transforms into a cloudless one. Why must these contradictions of common sense fester on this first of April? what elsecan one expect fromApril Fool’s daya clawless cat…

  • 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…

  • A Regent Experience

    The path from my flat on Wigmore Place to Regents College passes through Regents Park. Green lawns, well-manucured lawns, gurgling fountains, even a small wooded glen: there is usually so little time to enjoy it all. Until one day, after classes, I make time. A diverging walk from my well-trodden way to and from the…

  • Momentary Mindfulness

    The tenital hum in my ears, and the electric drone behind the walls. The ignited engine of a postal truck, and the first notes of a sparrow’s song. And the rain-soaked ground where they predicted snow would fall. The warmth in my gut, and the flow of vibration down my spine. The cooling along my…

  • Nocturnal Musing

    Does a deepening night even matter? Sooner or later, a full moon rises. another deep breath in the dark

  • 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…