by Warren Gaston | Sep 11, 2019
The first function of poetry is to reveal an experience of the world through the language of experience.
by Warren Gaston | Sep 8, 2019
for Katherine Walking at Sandy Ridge Pond, joe-pye and rag weed stiff against summer’s last breeze, cattails and egrets and geese, a line of dead wood trees, a standing scrawl of calligraphy, turtles, bodies sunk in muck, thrust green necks forward, ignoring danger,...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 6, 2019
Resist with all your might the temptation to know the unknown. It cannot be done and should not be attempted. Know all the facts you need to know. Facts are useful. The unknown is not useful, it is absolutely essential. The unknown is the boundary against which we...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 3, 2019
At night after the crickets, after the last birds, silence and darkness creep from lilac boughs. In the still dark, the lilac scent remains.
by Warren Gaston | Sep 1, 2019
It is now September, the ninth month of the calendar year and I am sad. For the last 31 days I have feasted on the feel of forming ‘8’ as I write the day’s date on each notebook page. I relish the ease of figure 8 ‘o’s, my pen gliding across paper in curved circles...
