by Warren Gaston | Feb 20, 2023
The ocean is full of rain. The rain is full of ocean. Yet, I can distinguish one from the other. rain falls, waves roll, toward vertical or horizontal shores.
by Warren Gaston | Feb 16, 2023
At age twelve, I wanted to be a poet. What does it take, I wondered? To be a poet. A real poet, I mean. One with dirt on his shovel to dig. Uncovering.
by Warren Gaston | Feb 12, 2023
The past is not set, it unsettles. The past adheres to the present, as the present gums up the future.
by Warren Gaston | Feb 3, 2023
Corollas nearing Mustangs, Mazda’s tailing Infinities, a Lincoln passed by a beat-up Ford each precisely spaced in time; big rigs, SUV’s, sedans, minis, motorcycles, speeding south through radar on interstate I-75. On the curve, the cloverleaf, the exit ramp, the...
by Warren Gaston | Jan 27, 2023
In sacred memory of the murdered millions International Holocaust Remembrance Day 1/27/2025 I would like to believe the Holocaust never happened and except for the overwhelming weight of evidence, I could. I would like to believe the Holocaust never happened,...
by Warren Gaston | Jan 25, 2023
The purpose of this poem is to prevent you from thinking about a rhinoceros. What are you trying not to see? A word or an animal. What real is really there? A real word? A real animal? A real word representing a real...
