Frank J. Tassone

Tag: haibun

  • Catching Up on Dragon Riding

    Did you imagine it would be so easy? As if any fool could do it: seize hold of life itself and ride its highs and lows! What hubris! Any wonder, then, that you’re shattered across the ground? Get up. Catch the next wave. Or the next. Until you… ride the dragon anything else is just…

  • An Olfactory Ode to Lasagna

    The salivating aroma of melting cheese. The tang in the air from bubbling marinara sauce. Oh, savor the scented steam as a glass platter lies upon the table, offering that perfect feast for a rainy day! droplets on an unused barbeque— the first bite

  • Alogopoeia

    After the last word of the last book of the series: desolation. Even with a greening yard and a young weekend, a despondance at the dirth of story. A whirlwind of “shoulds” impact with the force of a cacophonous greek choir that won’t stop! Sometimes, an aesthetic for logopoeia just isn’t enough. forsythias the next…

  • Foolish Bodily Inquiries

    She asks me how my knees are. It’s a loaded question, and we both know it. She saw me struggle to my feet multiple times last fall. There is the inevitable grunt that follows the creaking of 51-year-old knees that have touched the floor over a 26- year career. “Seriously, Mister. How are those old…

  • Necessary Misbehaving

    ‘I am going to get into a lot of trouble.’ – Raymond Radiguet, Possessed by the Devil, Grasset 1923 As though it could be any other way. As though I have not tried measure after measure. All to encounter a brush-off as tender as a backhand across the face. As though a quarter-century-plus experience matters less than a…

  • Vernal Epiphany

    A stirring. Darkness ripples, and a sharp pain pierces through this enshrouding numbness. The silence once again resumes that tangible quality, the childbirth pangs of language ready to emerge. The black molts into a brightening gray, then bleeds off like ink diluted in water. Images arise, evoking words after an everlong muteness. The echoes of…

  • A Cold Mountain Hike

    Storm King Mountain State park. Snowy trails. A family of four stumble along one. One of two children—a boy of about 12—slips and falls. None of them wear crimpons, micro spikes worn over footwear. Mira and I hike past them, wondering why people hike in winter so unprepared. sunlit ascent the swush-swush of our boots…

  • Winter Striding

    The shadows of bare Locus and Maples stripe the immaculate snow covering the backyard. The line of distant cirrus clouds foreshadow another snowfall sometime in the future. For now, the houses across the street reflect the light of the descending sun. A week ago, Mira and I arrived at Lake Skannatati. Doning our crimpons, we…