Tag: haibun
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Equinoxal Equilibrium
Alex taught us of the undesirability of being “double-weighted” when practicing tai chi. “Flow from one form to the next, shifting your weight from one leg to another,” she would profess. How extraordinary that our sister, Mother Earth, denies her advice twice each year. this balance of light and darkness… coyfish turn my own late…
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An Immortal’s First Education
I was just a boy—& still mortal—when I saw my mother take up the sword. A band of raiders from the cragged shores breached our walls. Two of them approached her, a savage hunger in their eyes I would learn much later. They never saw the flash of steel that severed their throats. A glance…
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Publication Alert (9/11/24)
I’m honored to appear in Where Peter is today. This haibun first appeared in Failed Haiku. Thank you, Mike Lewis!
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My Hands
My hands are a reader’s hands. They hold open the covers of good books with practiced ease and no fatigue. My hands are a poet’s hands. The right grasps the pen with skillful poise and delivers a peculiarly modern form of sanskrit only I can read. Both possess fingers that dance across keyboards with a…
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Metamorphic Exemplars
The last full week in August. The swan song of summer vacation. A flock of Canadian Geese in V-formation flew southeast late last week. & while a return of summer heat sizzles the Westchester County communities along the Long Island Sound, oak and maple leaves began falling. That’s why there’s a poignancy in seeing the…
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Belonging, or Not
A former karate teacher once told me that in every society of any scale (from club to nation) there are zealots, followers, and heretics. “And I’m a heretic,” he added, referring to his role within his dojo. But he looked obedient enough, responding to Sensai’s commands during a school-wide Karate demonstration. searching still for the…
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Realization
“Everything I let go of had claw marks on it.” Sitting this morning, realizing You were there all along. All through her drunken tirades, and his violent reactions. All through the High School bullying and the college dissipation. All through that horrible year teaching at that once-dream job in a suburban High School. It was…
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I, Chicken Parmesan (Encore, 8/20/24)
I rise from a corpse of poultry. Cold steel flays the fat off of me. Yellow yoke bathes me, before immersion in flour and breadcrumbs completes me. I first face the fire in a vat of boiling oil. Every impurity scourged from me, my texture a golden brown, warm marinara sauce pours upon me. The…
Frank J. Tassone 