Author: Frank J. Tassone

Quarter past midnight. The last remnant of relaxing chamomile leaves a tangy, bitter aftertaste. “Zigzagging to the light” plays across my mind as I put down an extended meditation on mentorship in Robert McDowell’s...

The Stations of the Cross lead us to Lady Park. There, refurbished statues, on new pedestals that depict the Joyful, Sorrowful and Glorious mysteries of the Rosary, line a path. At the end of...

Monday. The Orthodontist’s examination room exhibits college banners. Including Binghamton University—SUNY Binghamton—my Alma Mater. mirror to his mouth a view of his overbite Tuesday. The images from Guardians of the Galaxy float off a...

We lie down at 11:00 in the evening. My feet, legs, elbows feel twisted and itchy. And the sheet feels like a burial shroud. A flood of thoughts and images arise, a torrent from...

My steps up the blacktop walkway from the lower parking lot sound louder and louder. The off-white, windowed, one-story hallway ahead grows. My heart beats faster with each step. A knot in my throat,...

Julianna sleeps. Caterina dressed her in a light, pink baby dress. She has much brown, curly hair in only two weeks! While Mira chats with Anna-Maria in Portuguese, Frankie stroke’s the baby’s cheeks. We’ve...

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...

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....