by Warren Gaston | Sep 26, 2020
I went to help the poor. Free food was to be given out. I was to help give it. Many were in line. Outside the wall of a church. The truck with food was to arrive at nine. It was ten. The truck with food was to arrive at ten. It was eleven. It was noon when the truck...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 22, 2020
I am sitting on a bench looking at nature, as if the park is a museum of preserved things and nature is an object ‘d art for me to enjoy. A nasal tickle causes me to sneeze. A quick wind rushes against the world. I recall the metaphoric ‘butterfly effect’, the theory...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 20, 2020
Her coffee cup is blue. My coffee cup is red. Her cup goes on the right side of the cupboard, handle pointed forward. My cup goes on the left side of the cupboard, handle pointed right. There must be reasons for this ceramic configuration. I don’t remember what they...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 15, 2020
The driest thing in the world is a flame and drier still is a soul in which the flame has gone out.
by Warren Gaston | Sep 8, 2020
What I see are bodies on the beach, not histories, bodies seeking sun, people less layered, more lathered, jumbled footprints pressed in sand. I see a couple staring through tunnels of lack. What I don’t see are parents minus child, an accident, no charges filed,...
