Frank J. Tassone

Tag: Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads

  • Regret: A #TankaProse (10/17/18)

      So much bounty that we always took for granted. Always wanting more, never enjoying what we had. Until we realized–too late–that time was the one scarcity that mattered.   Now, our hall remains empty. Others take possession of what was ours. All that remains of us is the echo of our coveting. The “hungry…

  • Haunted Wandering: A #TankaTuesday #TankaProse (10/9/18)

        The spindly branches of naked oaks become grasping, withered hands in the waning light. An engulfing fog obscures the peering eyes of curious nocturnals. The single light of the A-frame, jutting out of the fog and trees, offers the only refuge.   And not an inviting one.   Try to ignore every horror…

  • Hawk Dual: a Gunslinger’s Initiation (a #TankaTuesday #TankaProse 10/2/18)

    What was it like for young Roland Deschain to face his mentor Cort armed only with David? What was it like to battle for mastery, risking exile, using one of “God’s own gunslinger?” A screech. A flash of sunlight off talons that claw flesh off bone. The answering smack of wood against feathers and bones.…

  • Seasonal Transitions: a #TankaTuesday #tankaprose (9/25/18)

        Autumn the decline of energy inspite of effort these soon-to-color leaves become ready to fall   Another season turns. Katydids lengthen their calls, then stop. Crickets continue, softer, more subdued. And yet soon an early Autumn chill yields to a remnant of summer heat.   Only for a moment that passes all too…

  • Tai Chi Logos: A #TankaTuesday #TankaProse (9/18/18)

      sunrise the potency, the power of the tree of life listening to the word everlasting   One more sunrise. One more bright ray to shatter the predawn darkness. One more ascent breaching the horizon. One more.   One more sunset. One last ray before the coming twilight. One descent like a bowing courtier before…

  • Going Somewhere? A #sonnet #haibun

      The woosh of passing wind as I move on, the bam!bam!bam! of hammers fall away. These wheels that crunch on gravel just beyond, a highway exit ramp to the blue way, where life slows down with every town I pass; and burdens born from crow-caws to day’s rind yeild to a precious peace I…

  • Human Foibles: A #TankaTuesday (8/28/18) #tankaprose #2

      Bad news kicks his shoes off on a supersonic flight. He sips champagne in business class and laughs his ass off. “They still don’t get it,” he mutters aloud to no one, “Practice makes progress, but the wankers won’t even raise their arses to fart!”   Meanwhile, the smoke spews more carbon into the…

  • Acedia Mood: A #TankaTuesday #TankaProse

    hidden sun silence from the cicadas this Autumnal day A thirst for more than water beside a vessel more than full Still, the weight. An unseen sorrow, an ennui. Too many days in this den? Too much stifling heat or suffocating humidity? Or is it the ambitious expectations too high to meet: a new journal…