by Warren Gaston | Mar 4, 2024
I learn from past centuries. And why not? They knew a lot. I am not bigoted, not against the dead, not against quickless bodies, nor quick-witted minds soaked with unfamiliar alphabets. The long gone teachers still teach; Ovid – things are and are not what they...
by Warren Gaston | Feb 22, 2024
All these years I have lasted. ephemeral seconds fleeting minutes transitory hours temporary days short months brief years From the beginning I was not meant to last. Yet, sun up and sundown, day in and day out, year after year, I lasted. Now in these last years, I...
by Warren Gaston | Feb 15, 2024
In the past, telephones were mounted on walls, placed on desks, quickly to be found in the same place every time. Wide spread webs of wires connected phones to each other. A telephone was attached. You knew where it was. When you heard ringing, you went to the...
by Warren Gaston | Feb 13, 2024
This poem will bore you. Or better yet, undo you, disassemble your world. There is a familiar word in this poem. You think it is comforting word. But after pondering this word, you realize it is seismic. I will give you a clue: a three letter word in the ninth stanza,...
by Warren Gaston | Feb 1, 2024
The Mountain of Paul Cezanne The best Cezanne could do to make his mountain was to slash shards of paint into canvass using brushes made of stiff hog hairs. With surfaces bearing shape and color Cezanne bared the thickness of density....
