Frank J. Tassone

Tag: haibun

  • Patience

    The frozen, dry earth slowly thaws and quickens in the gathering heat of spring. The pandemics that ravage the world slowly contract until the last cases become memory. The defeaning explosions of missle strikes and shell fire, the rumble of collapsing apartments and hospitals, the screams and cries of civilians: even these fall away to…

  • Miniscule Hope

    Awaiting that flutter of butterfly wings that summons Tsunamis. Yearning for the mustard-seed-sized faith that moves mountains. Wondering what quark will be the lever that lifts the universe. Trusting in the smallest of the small, for in what else can I? hazy moon a single cherry blossom floats to the ground

  • Sakura Amore

    The garden of the Garden State teems with new flora. Mira and I stride the grounds on an unseasonably warm, sunny good Friday. Forsythias and daffodils almost shine as they bask in the afternoon radiance. The white Cherry blossoms have just peaked, while their pink cousins already fade. We stride among giants I could not…

  • Sword in the Stone

    He tells me the sword is my destiny. Crazy old fool! How is a peasant like me the rightful heir to the Pendragon throne? Me—king of the Britons? It’s a cruel joke perpetrated by a frightening crank. Why have I taken my place in this line? I can already hear the jeers from onlookers. What…

  • 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…