Tom Stock is a true Long Island poet and I believe he would love to simply live in the Pine Barrens and when a change was needed he would be at the beach on Fire Island. His chapbook “Hidden Agenda: A Poetry Journey,” an offering from 2012, reveals his love of nature. Sit tight while he walks you through green moss at mounds of red wintergreen berries.

­— Beacon Poetry Editor Billy Hands

Poem From the Hot Mother

by Tom Stock

Five blades of grass
Only objects in a black and white photograph
Catching light enough to stand out above
A blackened lawn almost invisible

Like a tiny, empty bubble in a rock
From a volcano
Bubble formed in cooling lava
A tiny bubble
Carried from the Hot Mother

“Because what is?”
And if I don’t know what is?

Babylon, March 14, 2019

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