by Warren Gaston | Oct 9, 2021
Many things are hard to believe. Truth is one of them.
by Warren Gaston | Oct 7, 2021
Who could imagine that you, that I, that we would share earth together for this decades stretch of time? What are the odds? Not 50-50 even. A million-to-one? A vast complexity of accidents gone right. One micro-miniscule choice, one slight deviation from desire, one...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 4, 2021
You think baked potatoes are loaded. And they are. Can be. Chives. Cheese. Sour cream. Bacon bits. But words, oh my god, words. Words are loaded. Every word full of itself and much more. Words come into our mouths dragging the soiled roots of family trees,...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 3, 2021
This is a difficult poem. It needs to be. How else could it give voice to our complex world? The poem delivers experience. The reader must work to get at the poem. Begin with what you recognize and follow the trail. Pay attention to the clash of words: Myhtic and...
by Warren Gaston | Oct 2, 2021
Mythic peppermint odd affinities, Cain’s envy, the shepherd’s crook, and the shape of ‘J’, the candy of salvation. Salvador. Provisional solutions, continuous calamity. Dali. Crutches prop a postlapsarian world....
by Warren Gaston | Sep 21, 2021
For some today feels like the day after yesterday, for others today feels like the day before tomorrow. The past weighs heavily for some. The future is weightless for others. Ignoring the past leads to an ignorant future. i ...
by Warren Gaston | Sep 19, 2021
When right things are too difficult, we make wrong things seem right.
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 15, 2021
I treasure a book titled Hell Broke Loose written by and given to me by my friend and poet Warren Gaston. The horrors of the Holocaust expressed by a non-Jew brought me to tears. His poems capture both the cruelty of the Nazis and the hopelessness of the Jews. Being...
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...
