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
The Beacon is accepting poetry submissions at email@example.com.