by Warren Gaston | Sep 20, 2017
God is a wolf. God is wild. With an amazing kiss he invites me to go with him and we move together, but at a distance. Sometimes he forgets that I am a man. He romps roughly with me and his breath scalds my nostrils and he tears my tame dreams. When I move indoors he...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 12, 2017
A mountain is a slow wave tossed up from the flowing earth. And you are a wave flung out of the earth’s huge heart, disguised as a beautiful woman. Where you are, weeds splitting asphalt, birds in a tree, and the tree are awake because you notice them. You walk about...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 9, 2017
Adam said, “I love you” in a sweet voice. Eve replied, “Neophyte, you have no choice.” And that fresh starter Noah, mariner, debarked and drank to drunk on barmy beer. Moses, with his killer’s knife still bloody, dried up the sea, but still his feet got muddy. What...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 5, 2017
I have not mowed our yard for three weeks and rain has been heavy. It is thick with rough grass dandelions buttercups green weeds all shades uneven. I like it like this. It reminds me of a mountain meadow I knew once....
by Warren Gaston | Sep 1, 2017
“I can make a poem out of anything,” the poet bragged, standing in the second bay of Green’s garage as Stan removed sparkplugs to replace them with fresh fire. Then- steel wrench dropt! on concrete floor- Klawng! “There,” the mechanic said, “make a poem...
by Warren Gaston | Aug 30, 2017
A river of light flows through this Tuscan valley, light viscous as the River Arno, thick enough to be seen and felt, like fine sand blowing against skin, thick enough to sit on the tongue and be tasted, light that pours through the ears as music, light that strikes...
