by Warren Gaston | Dec 31, 2018
The earth turns, the sun arcs east west across the sky, the clouds blow whither they will, or so it seems, until the wind kisses your face with cold and you remember the power of what you cannot see. The moon dances a little in the dark among the black branches of an...
by Warren Gaston | Dec 30, 2018
At night in the bathroom after brushing my teeth, I saw water spilled on the counter near the sink. I left it spilled. Deliberately I did not wipe it up. It will be gone in the morning, I thought. Natural forces. Warm air blowing from the vent, and six hours of time....
by Warren Gaston | Dec 24, 2018
It is Christmas and the cold world jangles attempting joy. This is a season of blurred lines: God appears out of character in a baby boy body, a fat elf descends down a hundred million too tight chimneys with gifts for girls and boys, many of whom have too much...
by Warren Gaston | Dec 16, 2018
Winter, 2017. I trudge through a white crystal crust to feed the birds black sunflower seeds and suet. My reading chair in the garden by the rosebush and hibiscus is soft with snow. Last summer when I read there, the roses were in full blood bloom. The hibiscus in...
by Warren Gaston | Dec 14, 2018
The house is in disrepair. There are termites in the attic which explains water in the basement. Let us decorate with pictures of sound houses, pasting blueprints and architectural renderings over cracked plaster. The nails pound in easily. Think of wood as damp...
