Poems
Original Poetry by Warren GastonHead Lines
I wake in the morning. I get the paper. I read the headlines. On the masthead in bold print I read: News of the World You Helped Create.
River Poem
the river flows into the town through the town out of the town the river locates the town it is on the river a river town the town confines the river the river divides the town the council planning bridges the river is on its mind. an old man fishing the river is on...
A Taxonomy of Knowledge
Below you will find comprehensive knowledge listed in precise categories: Things easily understood Things understood but not correctly Things assumed but not investigated Things known to squirrels but not deer Things known to birds but not fish Things you were told...
DREAM: Russia
Dreaming through the air in a Gary-Powers glide over the bruised bully mother bear heavy with sobs & songs, centuries of weary care. Falling into the brown forests of her hair arms flung open, claws retracted, greeting with a red mouth full of teeth & poems....
Sculpting a Poem
When I read a great poem, I hear a chisel hammered against stone. When writing a poem, I am careful not to let the chisel slip. I constantly blow marble dust away.
It’s been a long day.
Squirrels worked their merry chases. Now they are weary and out of sight. Birds have silenced their songs. Cricket drone surreptitiously. Distant traffic. A plane grinds its way through thickening night, appearing and disappearing as trees offer space between...
Censorship
Don’t tell me to be quiet. Tell my mouth to swallow exclamations, if you want. Tell my throat to trap nouns in my larynx , if you must. Tell my tongue to squelch verbs at the lip. You know you want too. See where it gets you. These linguistic provocateurs do not obey...
Jeopardy
A smart person knows what they know. A wise person knows what they know, but also knows what they don’t know. A smart person knows the right answers. A wise person knows the right questions. A person who gives questions for answers is a contestant on Jeopardy.
Sanctus Spiritus
There are churches where the Holy Spirit sleeps in a vase waiting for flowers. The bells don't arouse him, neither the fusty hymns nor the sexless sermons nor pious feet shuffling toward the meal of bread. But when a bride comes before her nuptials, tickling him with...