Snow Removal Irony

haibun poetry


Another blizzard, another day off. I brush a half inch of water out of the garage before I start the snow-crusted Toro. The hum of the four-cycle motor fills the frigid air.

The blower casts a jet of encrusted snow to the slope side of the driveway. I follow up its work with a snow shovel. The scrape of the shovel as it plows residue to the sides somehow fills the air, too.

No sooner am I finished — inside, showered, catching my breath — than frozen rain falls.

sunlight reflecting
off the fresh driveway sheen
impotent salt


photograph by Philip Gielda

The Writers Manifesto


Frank J. Tassone

Frank J. Tassone lives in New York City's "back yard" with his wife and son. He fell in love with writing after he wrote his first short story at age 12 and his first poem in high school. He began writing haiku and haibun seriously in the 2000s. His haikai poetry has appeared in Failed Haiku, Cattails, Haibun Today, Contemporary Haibun Online, Contemporary Haibun, The Haiku Foundation and Haiku Society of America member anthologies. He is a contributing poet for the online literary journal Image Curve, and a performance poet with Rockland Poets. When he's not writing, Frank works as a special education high school teacher in the Bronx. When he's not working or writing, he enjoys time with his family, meditation, hiking, practicing tai chi and geeking out to Star Wars, Marvel Cinema and any other Sci-Fi/Fantasy film and TV worth seeing.

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