by Warren Gaston | Feb 20, 2017
I got up this morning and crawled out of bed, with unspoken words loose in my head. I languaged the cat who did not language back but gave me a look I deciphered as love. To my wife I languaged a word of affection, and she languaged me back with a word of correction....
by Warren Gaston | Feb 15, 2017
see the poem ‘Alfalfa’ published February 11, 2017. This poem is a trick, a deceit to lure one from the obvious to the obscure. The poem is not about alfalfa. It’s about language. It is not about alfalfa the grass. It is about alfalfa the word. More...
by Warren Gaston | Feb 11, 2017
Inside the farm house a farmer washes up after work in the field all day. I admire the care he gives to clutch grease, the grime dug from beneath fingernails, vigorous scrubbing of his knuckles and palms, the attention paid to cracked cuticles. I would like to have a...
by Warren Gaston | Feb 9, 2017
In the back seat of a Moscow cab, the poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko recited, Monologue of the Beatniks to what he thought was an audience of three, as they rushed through Kruschev’s drab city. Our century has often told us lies imposing them on us like tolls...
by Warren Gaston | Jan 28, 2017
How could they not, the ancient ones, standing bare foot on wet sand, the night tight around them, the blood moon rising cold fire from the sea? How could they not know in deep cellular fathoms that the whole was holy? In all my lovely science, I must believe they...
