Philip Gaber
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this bewailing cryA Poem by Philip GaberThe phone rings; somebody on the other end wants to know when I will visit them.I’m so distracted I mutter, “Haven’t been myself lat.. |
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nothing to divideA Poem by Philip GaberIn those days, the prevailing attitude toward Wiley Ouellette was that he was a fascist, not a socialist. However, he swore up and down that he was ap.. |
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the clichés stopped when i was drunkA Story by Philip GaberI headed for The Open Flask, a little dive I frequent whenever I feel like overdosing on expired prescription medication. The owner was a semi-acq.. |
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the bubble dancerA Story by Philip GaberI've worked odd jobs with bizarre people, but that first job was a doozy.There was a little fish restaurant called The Captain's Cabin that had been t.. |
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struggles and rebellionA Poem by Philip GaberThey say good writing comes from the unconscious. Who knows where the hell this is coming from? This was told to me while I was reading a lot of novel.. |
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let the sun set on thisA Poem by Philip GaberI heard you say you don’t like diamond cluster rings.I heard you when you said grace before we ate our meal.I heard you say you wanted t.. |
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without a light of doubtA Poem by Philip GaberI remember those days well. My doc began prescribing meds. Thorazine. For myself, I prescribed rotgut whiskey and bennies. Couldn’t afford Marti.. |
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secrets and shameA Poem by Philip GaberShe whispered to me, “You’re the nicest guy I never got to know.” I knew exactly what she meant. I’d been les.. |
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a revolutionary sense of truthA Poem by Philip GaberThe tender old man so frail in the midnight moon waits for a new day. |
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a revolutionary sense of truthA Poem by Philip GaberThe tender old man so frail in the midnight moon waits for a new day. |
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