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....
by Warren Gaston | Jan 30, 2024
Iris wants to speak with Daniel There are seven things Iris wants to say. Four of them are facts. Three are opinions and open to interpretation. She remains silent. Propriety, etc.
by Warren Gaston | Jan 28, 2024
Day after day, still snow. White weight grips the ground. Frozen daylight hangs in trees. Ice stays where water ran. A small wind blows, nothing moves. A bird’s black eye watches.
by Warren Gaston | Jan 25, 2024
My neighbors live behind a fence, inside a door, beneath a roof, within four walls. I see a garage door closing. I hear children playing. I hear a dog barking. . Perhaps, after a storm, we will meet....
