by Warren Gaston | Nov 28, 2022
I look for you. I know you are dead but I look for you. An irrational act, but I look for you. Not in a city taking up space, you’ve timed out of space, but in a peripheral time, the suburb of memory where dead friends live. I remember them, at least try to, I offer...
by Warren Gaston | Nov 23, 2022
Driving across a bridge, so much trust; unseen trusses, reasonable confidence, faith sufficient to take a risk, a chronicle of unfaltering achievement, or a night road, headlights coming no fear as you both steer clear, or when you want news to be true, without...
by Warren Gaston | Nov 18, 2022
There are things I know. There are things I don’t know. There are things I know I don’t know. There are things I don’t know I don’t know. Then there are things I can’t know. Those are fundamental things, the bedrock of all knowing. You can’t know them either. That is...
by Warren Gaston | Nov 17, 2022
I have no need to be great. A solid good is fine. I’m wary of very best. Superlatives make me dizzy, especially self-imposed superlatives. When asked who I am, I reply, I am the self I am getting over. Getting over yourself is a big...
by Warren Gaston | Nov 15, 2022
“Poetry is a way of holding experience, not holding on to, but holding.” Anne Michaels Canadian Poet Something was over. The war, I was told. People were happy. I was two. Whatever war was, it was good it was over. I was right to be happy. We all were. Our side won....
by Warren Gaston | Nov 12, 2022
The clerk called me “Sweetheart” as I paid my bill and checked out of the grocery store line. In reply, I apologized for my poor memory. “I’m sorry, our affections were so long ago I do not remember our trysts or your name.” Actually, I said, “Have a nice day,” cliché...
