Spotlight: Steven Fortune

Hi All

It's a perfect day to share the work of a highly-talented individual with you. Today, it is with great pleasure I share the poetry of Steven Fortune on the Jimmy Broccoli page and website.

Steven's poems are routinely phenomenal - a word I very rarely use, but the word is appropriate here. His points of view and unique writing style are refreshing, breathing new life into poetic expressions. He's a talented guy.

Steven in his own words:

Steven Fortune is a resident of Sydney, Nova Scotia (Canada) and a graduate of Acadia University (English Literature/History). He has released five poetry collections to date, edited several works by others for his publisher, and has also appeared on CBC Radio, while his work has been featured and read on several radio programs. He also aspires to write for the stage and recently completed his first one-act play.

Two of Steven's poems are below and I'm certain you'll enjoy them as much as I do! ______________

INHALE THE END

Lavender shroud, lather of cloud The weight of air shapeshifts aloud on waves of wind, a storm made proud

Inhale the end for smug investment in the attitudes inflating arbitrary aptitudes

Heed the freedom fighter that has grown too fond of paying forward Irony must not be given authorization to nullify creation in its own image

Is every newborn star a death on Earth? Will any persevere to cry over a spilled Milky Way?

An excess of glares paint a risk of self-conscious heavens A refuge in a sky elasticizes human foundations until the price of harmony insinuates soul inflation Collective guilt no match for one's association ______________

PRIVATE SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

Lost in my home without the map I slumber with Routines of morning music coffee and indulgent lights of ambience linger in their ghosted forms of floating automatic habits Yet they must be seen through to remind myself your presence simply nestles somewhere else sheltering from some insistent storm of planted origin Crystallized bullets of the cruelest April rain seal me to the inside of our handicapped coexistence In my languid disengagement I can read nothing but the clock making wishes at our designated times and cajoling my unguarded insecurities into the bargain of an artist where I court your proxy with a countdown and a deadline for your borders are what shield me from lethargy’s overruling wilderness

Pictured: Steven Fortune