Frank J. Tassone

Tag: Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads

  • Journey to Pine Meadow Lake: a Day 2 #NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo2020 #haibun

    Fresh air new ripples spreading Start at Kakiat park, where the parking lot surrounds an island of green with a few Maples. The enclosed dog park may or may not bustle with the delighted barks of canines overjoyed with company azure sky passing cumulus fade from sight canonballing beside the “no swimming” sign Cross the…

  • Such Foolish Fun: a Day 1 #NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo2020 #haibun

    We don’t play often. Sure, Mira asks anytime the weather is comfortable, without too much balm or chill. I’m usually the one that refuses. But not today. She rolls her hips, steps into her toss. With a snap of her elbow and a perfect release, she looses the blue frisbee toward me. I keep my…

  • Losing Snoodles: a #TankaProse

    11/16/19: loss and longing She was the second dog in our house. The first, a beagle, had been a “dog-sitting” trial ownership. She, a shephadoodle, came to us under no such pretenses: Dad simply showed up with her. I fed her dutifully, walked her consistently, played with her as only a devoted eight-year-old could. But…

  • Lupine Ultimatum: a #tankaprose

    …She is a howling in the wilderness we can never see… -from The Memory Palace, by Mira Bartók A mere howl away. That’s as far as the family has roamed. That’s all I need do, and their answer will guide me to them. Why don’t I? I am the Alpha, father to my cubs, mate of…

  • Smuggs Chronicle ’14, Day 16: August 9, 2014 (My Latest .@ImageCurve #Haibun)

    I awake at five. Toss and turn until seven. Then give up and center on the deck for the last time at Smuggs this season. Birdsongs, so different and yet similar, to home; the hum of AC units: they fill the air. The sky brightens, though it’s still quite cool. We’ll soon depart. I feel…

  • Smuggs Chronicle ’14, Day 15: August 8, 2014 (my latest .@ImageCurve #haibun)

    The trail is a mix of gravel and dirt. Pine seedlings, high grass and ferns flank it on both sides. Morse mountain starts more evenly than Madonna. Until we come to the first rise. Then the trail just keeps on ascending. mist on Madonna breathing hard around another bend Mira recognizes the summit. Top of…

  • Smuggs ’14 Chronicle, Day 14, August 7, 2014 (my latest .@ImageCurve #haibun)

    Gray cloudsclinging under the deck raila string of raindropswhat better morningfor intimacy? Awake at two in the morning. Restless in bed until after five. Awake again, this time by Frank, at nine. Soon, listening to crow caws, sparrow and blue jay songs, the rustle of leaves in the wind, clanking pots, and Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”…

  • Ephemeral Eternities: a #TankaProse

    How an aroma of a scarlet petal contains the rapture of joy. How a single prick of thorn holds the agony of pain. How fleeting, even when cared for. How enduring in memory, when gone. How Shakespeare denigrates it through Juliet’s “What’s in a name…” How Stephen King mystifies it as an icon of the…