by Warren Gaston | Jul 21, 2023
In the beginning, the old beginning. the first ship sailed. Then, a next beginning, a new ship, same captain and crew. A destination without rival unraveled. No arrival. Other ships have sailed. fresh starts followed by decay. Again, we begin the next beginning, new...
by Warren Gaston | Jul 20, 2023
Sun scream, moon sob, caught between voices, earth echoes earth does not sing.
by Warren Gaston | Jul 20, 2023
“Poems are never finished – just abandoned” Paul Valery Only write unfinished poems. To finish, a poem would need to be finite, complete in and of itself. Definitely defined. Poems are not finite, they are infinite, always done being done. The poet builds a...
by Warren Gaston | Jul 18, 2023
Don’t flicker or flit, land, linger steady on, come to rest in nearness. Soak, a sponge in the sea of the world. Like God early in the first week, ‘let,’ ‘allow’ Recognize what becomes significant, a sign of presence, an erotic moment with Being, the...
by Warren Gaston | Jul 15, 2023
I am not discontinuous with the mountain, with the forest, with the sea. They are not out there. I am not in here. I have been taught a divisive language as if my eyes were windows look out – [there] look at – [that] look in – [here] I make a...
by Warren Gaston | Jul 12, 2023
To be sheltered among echoes and mirrors, that’s what the candidate wanted, no hard shiny surface silent, reflected image, resounded voice. In the crowd, the politics of duplication, every thought identical, the governance of mimocracy. Does the candidate imitate the...
by Warren Gaston | Jul 11, 2023
Sometimes an eyelash can irritate an eye even more than watching an atrocity.
by Warren Gaston | Jul 5, 2023
No two things are different in the same way. How far up must you look to begin seeing sky? On an airplane, just look out the window. Astronauts look down to see sky. How is it that a sandwich eaten in Rome tastes better than the same sandwich eaten at home. Carl Jung...
by Warren Gaston | Jun 27, 2023
Little bothers, or progressing, the tremble, the quiver, the quake. The body’s sentinel wanders. Wonders. Was it something? Or not. Not, I am thinking. Or is it hope I am doing, self-diagnosis based on desire, a medicinal...
by Warren Gaston | Jun 26, 2023
The kitten is a quiver, muscles flex tense fur softens form, bone structure, cat architecture, ancient lineage, unmistakable shape, unrelenting instincts: lion, tiger, leopard, lynx. My legs are stabs and scratches. The cause. Claws. The kitten climbs me seeking...
