by Warren Gaston | Nov 6, 2024
There are moons, most yellow, some blue, slivered, half, and whole, all lit with another light, the sun, which is down, still shines, loaning light to night
by Warren Gaston | Oct 28, 2024
I fell asleep and remembered my mother’s dying. She lay head high in the tilted bed a sled for the long slow slide into sleep. The sheets, white, a field of snow drifting and silencing. Deer thin as arrows hungry on the hill that was my mother’s body their...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 28, 2024
the soft mass of their bodies sync them together, as protons and electrons hug holding atoms in a congenial equation, the carnal equivalent of E=MC2 E = the ergs of erotic energy required to charm our bodies toward the voluptuous volatility of uncritical mass. ...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 21, 2024
the river runs through the town before the town after the town the river locates the town it is on the river a river town the town confines the river the river divides the town the council building bridges the river is on its mind an old man fishing the river is on...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 20, 2024
The full weight of a robin lands on a reed. The reed takes the robin’s weight seriously. The reed quivers and bends. The full weight of a poem lands in a mind. The mind does not take the poem’s weight seriously. The mind neither quivers nor...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 18, 2024
Dying requires an unwavering commitment to silence. I am not ready yet to make that commitment.
