by Warren Gaston | Jan 9, 2020
I get up in the morning, get dressed, get in the car, get a drive-thru breakfast, get gas, get on the freeway, get to my exit ramp, get to the office, get the car parked, get out of the car. It is raining. I get wet. I get inside. I get dried off, get coffee, get down...
by Warren Gaston | Jan 7, 2020
I will matriculate in a school of material teachers that I might know the polysaccharide love of a tree, or the solid mineral experience of iron. If I could rest in the presence of a rock that has done nothing in a thousand years but sit in utter satisfaction on the...
by Warren Gaston | Dec 8, 2019
As I lay dying, it will not be God’s voice I hear but my own voice asking questions. God will be listening, curious to know if I will ask myself hard questions. More curious still, both of us will wonder what hard questions I will ask God. ...
by Warren Gaston | Dec 3, 2019
And I, sitting in my car in the parking lot, wonder what went wrong. The heavy history of their years finally catching up? Looking at the unoccupied blue Ford Escape next to me, I imagine them now on a love seat in a counselor’s office, a short length of opposition ...
by Warren Gaston | Nov 30, 2019
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, that Stille Nacht was not sung beneath the chimneys of Auschwitz, that the beech trees of Buchenwald...
by Warren Gaston | Nov 23, 2019
Eating at the Cederholm Roadside Café I wonder whose mouth this fork last visited, whose coffee this spoon has recently stirred. Beyond whose teeth did this fork unburden its salad cargo of vegetal nutrition, on whose tongue did it rest for the pleasure of taste...
