Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

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  • One line

    as goes the ending so goes the fresh beginning; life’s merry-go-round Read more

  • Snapshot

    The picture was taken from too far away the two of us sit on the apartment steps the manicured shrubs on either side dominate we are framed, she and I, by wrought-iron railings Still, it is the only picture of us that I have she wears sunglasses and her acorn-hued hair cascades over her right Read more

  • Passing fancy

    I have passed many things in life; tests, gas, out, deals-of-a-lifetime, cars on the freeway, footballs – been given a free pass, let other go past I have passed forty and now fifty; been passed over at work, while women have passed me by as has apparently ‘my time.’ I have passed the buck. I Read more

  • La-Z-Boy lullaby

    late night television used to be old movies, should’ve been forgotten musical westerns other black-and-white obscurities followed by the national anthem then mystical test patterns; funky geometric designs with a channel number and odd, monotonous dulcet tones for peaceful slumber white noise now people pontificate at all hours; exhortations for insomniacs on how to remain Read more

  • …by the dashboard light?

    What was in our youth, mood lighting for teen romance – dim, yellowish-orange tinged spotlight on amateurishly fumbled front-seat lust has become, in our middle-aged driveway rendezvous, moment- before-we-go-in-from-a-night-out a weird glow of two blue-hued Smurfs who now bumble with seatbelts due not to inexperience – but for lack of practice and the confusion of Read more

  • Manly

    At eight-years old machismo has a very different feel ‘Don’t cry like a baby,’ my son would admonish his second-grade peers ‘…cry like a man!’ As he is now sixteen I wonder…would he challenge them at all? Read more

  • Hummel a few bars and they’ll fake it

    carnal garden gnomes filling my shelves with tchotchkes; time to trim big leaves Read more

  • On a Wednesday in 1989

    As clear as twelve-hour old coffee she told me goodbye a jolt of caffeinated remorse left me wide-eyed and pondering as the glare from dawn’s light screamed, painfully, ‘morning after’ The pot turned out to be empty a good thing, in retrospect as I sure as hell didn’t need topping off Read more

  • Poured forth

    The bartender is skeptical; less than most of his peers more transparent about it than many fellow mixologist hesitant in his urge to believe the guy on the stool adjacent to mine doesn’t understand the resistance, thus taking the credibility hit when he can least afford one, then takes it personally, with resignation; defeated in Read more

  • Not a deep sleep

    I used to have a dream where I had won first prize in a church raffle: lunch with God where, over, thin-crust pizza, I could ask him three questions. I always lead with an inquiry about why he made humans “The hyenas” sayeth God, as the waitress pours more wine, “said I didn’t a sense Read more