by Warren Gaston | May 25, 2021
I. Two days after a mass shooting, in a distant American city, I go to our local mall to prove that I am brave, A police officer guards his way among tables alert for alarms. He ignores me. I am disappointed with relief. I am not suspected of being dangerous. II. A...
by Warren Gaston | May 24, 2021
poetry is a small door into the vast world
by Warren Gaston | May 7, 2021
Our kitten has very personal opinions. It wants to be here. It wants to be there. Why? Nobody knows. Least of all the kitten. Climbing on me at this moment is an especially personal choice. No permission asked. Yet permission granted. What desire seeks satisfaction?...
by Warren Gaston | Apr 30, 2021
What does a mirror reflect when placed before another mirror, itself or the other? What do you see when you look out at the world, the world or your reflection? w
by Warren Gaston | Apr 28, 2021
Our electric sweeper commits unnatural acts, creating what nature abhors, absolute emptiness. Switched on, absence happens, a whirr of depletion, a surfeit of vacancy. Air rushes out. Dirtdust rushes in. Fillfulment. That’s why I bought it. It...
