You are un-directing the passage, right?
You are non-navigating the ship
I feel, in long hysterical drifts
that I am on the formless threshold
of an enormous room without walls
and that you are slamming doors
David Stone is a New York City based writer whose book 21 Poems was published this year.
If you’re a book lover, you’ve probably encountered narrative poetry at some point. Maybe you read
Summer day, late afternoon, Crazy Suzanne appears at my door. “Are my tits getting bigger?” she
by David Stone We are still in the car, pushing through heavy, drifted snow. We will
You are invited to a poetry reading with Roosevelt Islander Adela Sinclair. She and Rowyda Amin
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