Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

Life

  • Self portrait

    The extremes of who, what I am whence I hail internally DNA, culturally, spiritually nature/nurture all fun to puzzle-piece together free form, no squared-off edges of big-picture guidance What my forebearers were who they were what they did what was done to them is historically recorded, reported yet remains very personally unresolved My now obsessive,… Read more

  • Witness 04/20/21

    ‘A bouquet of humanity.’ – Jerry Blackwell   The youngest among the crowd that day was nine On her way to that very store to buy snacks Walking with her cousin, who was twelve that day “Get off of him!” said the younger girl, with plaintive scowl   She said it more than once.  … Read more

  • Put on your shoes

    “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”       Laozi Our journey has finally begun there have been fits, starts, delays in getting here; now finally underway, I am ill at ease The irony, not lost on me An inveterate wanderer, – ‘Mr. Spontaneity’ to friends, family I do not… Read more

  • Old growth

    At age seven I nearly killed the pubescent birch tree anchoring our Minneapolis backyard stripping it of all its bark, roots to four feet up – the physical limits of my fanciful reach As Mrs. Kime’s most intrepid first-grader I planned to build a birch bark canoe, ala the Chippewa we were studying, but my… Read more

  • 33 (For Johnny)*

    Twenty-one years was not nearly enough; we had just embarked when you left. Thirty-three years is not nearly enough to erase what is indelibly sketched not a pencil caricature, a dimly recollected photographic snapshot or grainy home movie just you, at nineteen, before illness rudely smudged and dog-eared the picture you are smiling, damn it… Read more

  • Put on your shoes

    “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”       Laozi Our journey has finally begun there have been fits, starts, delays in getting here; now finally underway, I am ill at ease The irony, not lost on me An inveterate wanderer, – ‘Mr. Spontaneity’ to friends, family I do not… Read more

  • Recalculating

    another turning point crossroads of cliché and same ole what to do which way to turn got here without GPS will navigate as always, following stars gut instinct not infallible co-pilot riding shotgun, no desire to shoot let alone take aim even with windows down, wind in my hair freedom promised by open roads just… Read more

  • Newlyweds ago

    Loft apartment, late Saturday afternoon spontaneity interrupted by shrill, continual oven timer buzz “Pizzas done” says she “But I’m not” replies he not-rhythmic, static range-buzzer drone not disrupting tempo of early life-together moral they learned how easily heat, afterglow can turn three-dollar frozen pizza to charcoal – Mark L. Lucker © 2015 http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd   Read more

  • Patching things together

    Growing up on a small farm, rural Minnesota space was scarce, times were lean and the land was life ma and pa granted my brother, sister and I a small plot every spring in which to plant and nurture pumpkins; sibling sharecroppers, we repaid mom by growing enough extra pumpkins for her to fulfill familial… Read more

  • Shackled

    He sits in a rural Midwestern jail cell, his thoughts known only to God maybe himself. Just maybe. Two people are dead. Multiple lives altered irreparably cold, legalese narrative intones burglary gone more than bad stolen shotgun, car, arson. Death. Warrant, charges read ‘evil’ with no backstory just the facts, ma’am, just the facts… I… Read more