Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

Grandparental

  • No French cuffs

    Plaid flannel shirtsof my Northwoods youthsmelled ofbeer and pine conesboat motor gasoline andfresh-caught sunfishwood smokeand filtered Winstons When I was a kid theintertwined, pungentaromas of cervelat salamiplumbers’ grease, house paintmingled freely, lockedin square-patterned fibersalways-rolled-up sleeves no amount ofFels Naptha-soapcould smother thosegodly auras When I was a kidplaid flannel shirts smelledwonderfully worn by heroes –old men… Read more

  • The sign

    Sawed-off fence picket turned sideways points eastward, sort of you are – we are – ‘that way’ if signs are to be believed The sign unaware you have been gone thirty years, plus your house,over twenty anyone driving north on Crow Wing County Highway Three would believe they could turn, still find you I know… Read more

  • The Letter

    Dear Grandchildren: There is irony in that the last thing you will ever forget will be one of your firsts crush love kiss sex broken heart first to never be forgotten first to stick with you first to make you feel like that first to make you hurt first to make you feel alive knowing… Read more