Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

Life

  • In step

    Time, so they say, always marches on its cadence, precise as any honor guard Mostly. Time is sometimes less a rhythm, more a tuning of a ukulele MY dog DOG has HAS fleas. fleas. My dog has fleas Time sometimes stumbles, but always finishes the parade Read more

  • Mine

    Beatles songs, baseball cards the aroma of a fresh-mowed lawn, pungent sweetness of burning leaves lake-bottom mud spurting through summer toes Gelatinous frogs. Hot beach sand cool July evenings and the first non-parental hand ever held A specific summer. Tactile youth. You. Read more

  • Meditative bombast

    What I have inflicted on life and its responsorials and reprisals on me have proven that regrets teach – if you do the homework things, events once inexplicable are simply lessons learned in an evolving matriculation; tuition deferred, knowledge incurred, debits carried forward, erased Unlike my youthful self I am far less Dylanesque, unless positively Read more

  • Fact

    This may make you sing laugh dance or cry but the reality is you will always be dead much longer than you’ll ever be alive. Read more

  • The trip

    Reading the patina-seasoned bronze postcard at my feet stokes no inner desire of mine to travel Details are scarce; dates, no places. This is premium vacation time, a long time coming traveling solo; no timeshares, no all-inclusive-cruise – hostel or hostile? No clue, just reading the postcard No routine platitudes, clichés; ‘having wonderful time’ ‘wish Read more

  • Oracle

    He was a shaman always clad in sacramental wool plaid shirt, dirty cap there are no mountaintops in Minnesota’s northwoods Enlightenment here comes from atop decaying tree stump aside rustic leaf and pine needle carpeted trails cutting through towering pines, birch, oak you stop, sit for a spell solemnity in this place dictated with wry Read more

  • Inevitablities

    Calendar, clock, seasons youth, maturation, death functional, pre-meditated change for the sake of change Desire, plans, politics she loves me not, she loves me? Change on the fly, on a whim, on a wing-and-a-prayer. On the lam. Change happens to you regardless ignoring change is not desiring the status quo, just denial dressed up for Read more