Frank J. Tassone

Tag: haibun

  • 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…

  • A Tardy Apology

    Hello, there! I know, I know. It’s been a while. I could explain how pervasive my current writer’s block has been. I could recount the general malaise through which I’ve lived. I could recount the Star Wars gravity well down which I’ve fallen. All of this is true. Nevertheless, the story remains incomplete. I honestly…

  • A Poetic Deferral

    Sorry, can’t talk now. Frank and I are about to experience the opening celebration at the Dodge Poetry Festival 2022! Several poets will take the stage, and we are hear for it! life blood of language and culture poetry

  • This particular TGIF

    A week of conflicting priorities, restless teenagers, mounting work with pressing deadlines, and an all-consuming exhaustion ends tonight. A glimpse at the night sky to see a handful of stars visible despite the ambient light pollution. No, the universe is not agitated. Once I calm the mind through stillness, I will perceive the serenity. If…

  • 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…

  • Lucid Realizations

    We stretch toward the ceiling as the music plays. We breathe through the resistance of taunt tendons and tight muscles. We tap from shoulders to knees. Autumn eve across the water shimmering light Eyes moisten in the dark. A heart, clenched in condemnation over endured powerlessness, loosens. Somehow, for the first time, an unconditional acceptance…