Author: Frank J. Tassone

Haibun Poem   I brought my car in for inspection at Tallman Tire and Auto. A tall, thin man with graying brown hair under a Yankee fitted cap smiles. He was one of Frankie’s...

Haibun Poem   The towers of the George Washington Bridge straddle the traffic. The constant drone outside our motel room is our own urban surf. Inside, a musty smell from the carpet complements the...

Haibun Poetry   In another life, I’m too late. My son Frankie and his cousin Mia swim out too far. The waves at Robert Moses State Park swallow them. I cry out. They can’t...

Haibun Poems   The Hudson surges against the black boulders of the Nyack Beach shoreline. A woosh of water on stone is a chant in rhythm to the river’s tide. Frankie bikes around a...

Haibun Poem   Her cup of Columbian Supremo cools atop of a crumpled copy of the Journal News, spread over the kitchen table like leaves across the lawn. She stands by the kitchen sink,...