Poems
Original Poetry by Warren GastonParadise: City of Angels (8)
Paradise: City of Angels (8) Soaking in a dictionary of whirling wet words, nouns and verbs pulse poems into the mind, a warm storm of metaphor and rhyme.
Paradise: City of Angels (7)
Paradise: City of Angels (7) Flameless moon, cool to touch, you burn a hole in the black night sky, you set fire to the tinder of my soul.
Paradise: City of Angels (6)
Paradise: City of Angels (6) Thick night heat, orange blossom air, the garden still as a heart between beats, the miracle of immense city silence.
Paradise: City of Angels (5)
Paradise: City of Angels (5) Swift wing hummingbird, standing poised in the sky, you poke your beak in gravity’s eye.
Paradise: City of Angels (4)
Paradise: City of Angels (4) Second half-moon morning, sharp shadowed corner of the house the sun tangled in telephone wires.
Paradise: City of Angels (3)
Paradise: City of Angels (3) Frothing water, naked sun, half-moon faint in the lemon tree, fruit of the fading night.
Paradise: City of Angels (2)
Paradise: City of Angels (2) I walk toward soft roaring water on a path between boxwood and wall following cairns of fallen fruit.
Paradise: City of Angels (1)
I have just returned from two weeks in Los Angeles, the City of Angels. There we rented a stucco cottage on Moore Street featuring a small secluded garden and hot tub. Eight brief poems came to be in that urban paradise. Paradise, the Persian Pairidaeza - 'magic...
Providence
Here I am. I was not the soldier killed in Da Nang, nor crushed when my car slipped off the jack. I was not stabbed in a doorway in Kew Gardens, Queens, nor did I die of cancer or Ebola or AIDS. I was not gunned down in a market in Memphis, or bombed in Baghdad or...