Poems
Original Poetry by Warren GastonNo Such Thing
There is no such thing as no such thing. If you can imagine such a thing there is such a thing, existing in your imagination.
Cassandra’s* News
I would like to draw a distinction between fake news and news you don’t like. Fake news is a falsehood claimed as a fact. News you don’t like is very likely a fact. (This is not an inconsequential distinction.) *In Greek mythology, Cassandra was the...
It Is What It Is
It is what it is, Nothing to brag about, something to mourn. Over eras we learned that more was less, and wouldn’t last, We civilized the indigenous out of their ingenuity. Then we created artificial problems much easier to solve. Alienation was essential. Detestation...
Hands
Switching on the radio on my drive home from the store, the sound of fervent self-discipline poured into the car, Alice Sara Ott* embodying a classical tradition. I imagine yearly hours of practice, a child, a piano bench, small hands flying over ivories, mistake...
Water
Water disguises, reforms: tea, ice cubes in tea, salt oceans, the great fresh lake stretched west beyond sand, the alluring office cooler, 24 bottles plastic wrapped, the pool below the diving board, storms and lawn sprinklers, thirst, my own after hiking, the...
The Truth about Circles
Every circle begins, continues, & ends with an arc.
The History of August
8 - two spheres stacked, one of two imperial months, July, August, the first 7th and 8th months of the year. Each year towards summer’s end, month eight stirs my meditations as we approach month number nine, on our Gregorian calendar September – Sept – the Latin...
Historians
We are so tired, we historians, so tired, hired to sanitize dated data, flushed in amnesiac American light. Our popular books see shine, everywhere, everywhere glittering, the future, even the past. NOTE: Forgetting doesn’t work anymore, and moreover, worse than...
Love – Uncertainty
Two cardinals, one red, one brown, gendered opposites, landed feet away on two thin branches of a spindly tree. They saw me, looked at each other, felt trembling, took off in flight. Was it fear, the urge for privacy, or the arboreal quake? ...