by Warren Gaston | Feb 26, 2021
All day long I say to you, this is me. All day long, this is who I am, you say to me. This is me right now, I say. The same as you were an hour ago, you say. You haven’t changed since breakfast, I say. A little, you say. But it’s subtle....
by Warren Gaston | Feb 18, 2021
The full moon is searching for language, a word to free it from the sentimental cliché of the last hundred lunar years; silver beam, borrowed light, green cheese, honeymoon, and all that. The face of a man has been seen in the moon by millions for centuries, long...
by Warren Gaston | Feb 16, 2021
Who could have imagined that you, that I, that we would share earth together for this long stretch of time? What are the odds? Not 50-50 even. A million-to-one? A vast complexity of accidents gone right for the convergence of our histories to become the stories that...
by Warren Gaston | Feb 11, 2021
The narcissistic cannibal, always ravenous, is a connoisseur of himself. He has acquired quite a taste for the junk food of his thoughts. His mouth waters as he pops open the Styrofoam box of bigotry. He can’t get enough. He has no feelings but indigestible fear....
by Warren Gaston | Feb 9, 2021
A funny word: ‘enough’. Spelled funny. (wouldn’t ‘enuff’ do) There must be roots and reasons for the ‘gh’ preceded by ‘ou’. It sounds funny too, like fluff, ruff, or bluff. In a world of scarcity, there’s never enough. Where a few have too much, and many more have too...
by Warren Gaston | Feb 7, 2021
This is a brief philosophical inquiry into the meaning of being human. In order to appreciate the meaning of our human life, we must contemplate the contribution death plays in our being fully alive. Living and dying appear together and are deeply entangled. We...
by Warren Gaston | Feb 5, 2021
I hung a birdfeeder in our backyard, filled it with seed, and waited. One day. Two days. Several days, I waited. Would avian diners arrive at my modest meal? A cardinal appeared, head darting nervously between pecks of seed. In the brief introduction to his book New...
by Warren Gaston | Jan 30, 2021
Many poems are the result of deciphering silence. Some poems are the result of deciphering noise.
by Warren Gaston | Jan 27, 2021
Because I have a skin. Because my skin is a particular color. Because the color is called white. Because white is privileged by custom. Because the custom is enforced by law. Because the law is on my side. Because I must do very little to be judged right. Because I...
by Warren Gaston | Jan 25, 2021
I didn’t believe then. I don’t believe now. Not in the efficacy of votive candles lifting prayers to heaven on small waves of heat. But in the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourviere on a hill high over Lyon, France, the praise of city traffic rumbling below, the Rhone...
