by Warren Gaston | Sep 9, 2017
Adam said, “I love you” in a sweet voice. Eve replied, “Neophyte, you have no choice.” And that fresh starter Noah, mariner, debarked and drank to drunk on barmy beer. Moses, with his killer’s knife still bloody, dried up the sea, but still his feet got muddy. What...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 5, 2017
I have not mowed our yard for three weeks and rain has been heavy. It is thick with rough grass dandelions buttercups green weeds all shades uneven. I like it like this. It reminds me of a mountain meadow I knew once....
by Warren Gaston | Sep 1, 2017
“I can make a poem out of anything,” the poet bragged, standing in the second bay of Green’s garage as Stan removed sparkplugs to replace them with fresh fire. Then- steel wrench dropt! on concrete floor- Klawng! “There,” the mechanic said, “make a poem...
by Warren Gaston | Aug 30, 2017
A river of light flows through this Tuscan valley, light viscous as the River Arno, thick enough to be seen and felt, like fine sand blowing against skin, thick enough to sit on the tongue and be tasted, light that pours through the ears as music, light that strikes...
by Warren Gaston | Aug 28, 2017
It’s all about the beat, the rhythm and the throb. the heart drum’s pounding a life-long percussive song. Don’t let your mind distract your body from the beat. You are the throb, the beat, the pulse. You are made of music, rhythms, heart – lung, night –...
