Steven Stone

I am originally from Flushing, Queens. I went to Queens College and graduated in 1973 with a B.A. in Drama & Theatre. I began writing poetry when I was in high school. Also, I am a painter, starting from about 1969. I have been published in many online magazines and some print magazines.

ANCIENT MORNINGS.

I am
fond of seclusion
of Samuel Palmer
of the Ancients
	
I recuse myself
from needless misery

to the point of
no tunnels or trapdoors

A blaze
is not the
essence of
fire

The darkness
creeps like a
broken merry-go-round
(will break down)

I suppose there is 
more garbage to
get rid of

Menace
on the spotted sun

I’m grieving
for all the
trees
knocked down for superstores

clouds in the ears
for brains
can I get a hug for this?

too much sky
for one fine morning
i chew on my throat
bringing up the sun

brain sitting on
the window sill

watching the bus
sneeze to a stop –

I don’t get on

YELLOW FLOWERS IN SPRING.

Perhaps I should accept the
murderous fact that I am a
second-rate poet;

perhaps I should also accept
that I am a second- or third-rate
artist

What does it matter as long as
April dawns crisp and clear
and furnishes us with lilacs,
daffodils and forsythia;

especially forsythia, those
erstwhile yellow stars hiding
partly behind the green;

is there a better metaphor,
perhaps unknown, than the

mortality of frost-brushed
yellow blossoms

awaiting the summers
of green; a season too
distant,

a season of pallid
lakes and dead
woodchucks?

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