by Warren Gaston | Oct 14, 2017
A Prose Poem I was three years old. It was spring. I was playing in the garden. I startled a mud toad under a green leaf. The toad leapt away. I wanted him to play. I hurled a stone and hit the toad, killing it. I ran to tell my mother. My mother cried. She was no...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 13, 2017
A Prose Poem The devil is exhausted. He works hard. Mostly mental, but it is still hard work. He must produce new and more alluring temptations each and every day. He tests them out on his underlings. Some are tossed as ineffective and irreparable . Most are good...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 12, 2017
A Prose Poem What can we believe anymore and how and why? A fictive mind has been caught in bed with the wife of facts. Each day at 5 p.m. children are marched before the newsroom cameras into the public eye. Can we tell whose child is whose? Which child is...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 3, 2017
Guns just want to be shot. They doze in the gun safe, fidget in the night stand, squirm in the glove compartment, are restless under the driver’s seat. The loaded pistol under the pillow whispers to the sleeping mind above, “I think I hear a burglar in the...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 1, 2017
The poem: ‘God Is a Wolf” was posted on September 20, 2017 We approach a poem like a detective approaches a crime scene, looking for clues. Discovery is in the details. The clues are found in the very carefully chosen words the poet offers. The words...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 28, 2017
Hard power engines, hot tail pipes, dark tires, the heavy business of bumpers. And the children, not to be had, darting edgeless through the sun, invisibly silent, lost in the sum. The crossing guard, orange vest & gloves, not much, an evident word against losses....
