Author: Frank J. Tassone

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Wheelbarrow Race

Haibun Frankie holds the younger boy’s ankles. When the ladies say “Go!” he and the boy race up the green toward the finish line. The younger boy’s desperate hand-after-hand wheeling pulls Frankie along. And...

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Requiem for an Autumnal Moment

Haibun Another breeze. More rustling leaves. Shadows spread, then recede. Clouds drift between the sun and the yard. The first leaves fall. Mira finishes tapping on her Asus. She stretches, walks over and states...

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Hallowing Loss

Haibun A hornet struggles in the air, slow to fly off after a fruitless search under the deck table. Emerald leaves on a barren peach tree doomed to the saw tremble in the slightest...

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Yardwork

Haibun Fresh-cut grass soaks in the sun. Already sweaty and sore, I crank the starter rope of the chainsaw — the same one that leaked chain oil in the carrying case. After a prayer...

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Adult Recess

Haibun I watch gray cumulus gather. Listen to cicadas, the workers laboring on my neighbor’s house — their chainsaws buzzing, cutting. And the ever-present drone of perpetual traffic on the New York State Thruway....

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A Hornet’s Burden

Haibun A hornet carries a pale-green insect — an aphid or grasshopper — and tries to ascend. It can’t fly above the tabletop. Frankie, seated on my lap, holds his breath as it hovers...