by Warren Gaston | Aug 13, 2016
I have just returned from two weeks in Los Angeles, the City of Angels. There we rented a stucco cottage on Moore Street featuring a small secluded garden and hot tub. Eight brief poems came to be in that urban paradise. Paradise, the Persian Pairidaeza –...
by Warren Gaston | Aug 12, 2016
Here I am. I was not the soldier killed in Da Nang, nor crushed when my car slipped off the jack. I was not stabbed in a doorway in Kew Gardens, Queens, nor did I die of cancer or Ebola or AIDS. I was not gunned down in a market in Memphis, or bombed in Baghdad or...
by Warren Gaston | Jul 24, 2016
after Lorca Summer song, who set you loose among treetops and green leaves? The blue jay screeching his fright. Summer song, who set you loose among dahlias and roses? The butterfly escaping the night. Summer song, who set you loose among pebbles and loam? The...
by Warren Gaston | Jul 19, 2016
This post was inspired by an email I received from a very good friend asking me if I would be willing to explain to him why I like poetry. Posted below is my response. ________________________________________________________________________________________ First,...
by Warren Gaston | Jul 18, 2016
We have dropped time, history lies broken on the floor the mirror of minutes lies shattered on the floor the egg of hours lies splattered on the floor the urn of epochs lies scattered on the floor. A shout goes out; “Help, someone repair time.” All the King’s horses...
