by Warren Gaston | Sep 17, 2021
While I was sitting in my garden chair rain began falling in my neighborhood. A meteorological event. The elemental compound water, formula H2O, two atoms of hydrogen to each atom of oxygen was dropping from the cloud dark sky. A chemical occurrence. Or to put it...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 14, 2021
I lost my old address book: streets, names, numbers, yours among them, my beloved well-wrung friend. When phoning you I did a zigzag digit dance across the dial pad, your number retrieved from both mental and muscle memory, a finger poked pattern, stored as factual...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 12, 2021
My city is under attack. There are no enemies in sight to be seen. Chimneys are still stacked, brick on brick. Roofs are intact. All the walls are upright. Lawns are mowed and weeds are pulled. Newspapers are retrieved from driveways each morning and mail from the...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 8, 2021
After death, you won’t know what it’s like to be dead. You can only know while consciously alive and then by imagining. Do you remember a late summer day 27,362 years before you were born? Being dead is like that....
by Warren Gaston | Sep 5, 2021
After 10 kittens in the last 12 months, now you, number 11 another whiskered wanderer, a black white furry guest, little monk with no need to possess, little monk with no need to confess. Playful innocence with a skinny tail. We teach you house manners: the litter...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 3, 2021
The future is walking toward your house. The future is standing on your porch. The future is ringing your doorbell. The future is not waiting to be let in. The future is breaking down your door. The future is throwing a fit in your house, warming your beer, turning...
