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There is no Hemingwayesque romance to writing by the artificial glow of heart monitors nothing poetic in tapping out words on a phone while strapped to IVs typing encumbered by ET reminiscent clunky, red-tipped oxygen monitor But, as a poet you do what you gotta do as instinct kicks in fight-or-flight, primal self-defense by an Read more
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Small, sporadically mowed rural-church cemetery familial in feel generations grouped eternally spontaneous, asymmetrical layout seems unforced, movingly casual in its nostalgia a rainy, gray day along narrow township gravel road cars parked, haphazardly We buried an old soldier. local VFW could only muster honor guard of three men bent, trembling, purposeful fingers wrinkled khaki, faces, Read more
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Living now in a place where, in autumn most leaves stay put clinging to their branches without pretense never having the decency to abandon their vibrant green for appropriate, earthy hues A few adhere to my more familiar, season-bound tradition, true natural order small in numbers generally unnoticed It takes keen effort to scrounge enough of Read more
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summer comes to a close autumnal breezes waft rustling memories of those days when the close of summer had more definitive endings sun-drenched days of youthful frolic, innocent play, done swimming, playing with frogs in holes dug on sandy beaches at grandparent’s homes; ‘the lake’ summer Xanadus of childhood one year, scenic backdrops for advancing Read more
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Claims made by fishermen politicians guys on a prom date can be taken at their word if the words are unspoken first-hand supported by three corroborating witnesses backed up by video duly notarized void where prohibited or English is spoken and understood words to the wise from folks in the know – Mark L. Lucker Read more
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walking old neighborhood streets first time in forty years strolling the paper route I once sped through on bike chucking news, sports, imaginary touchdown passes blithe in my accuracy – papers always landing where intended most of the time remembering homes, faces cantankerous folks the best tippers comforting offers of lemonade, hot cocoa incessantly yapping Read more
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I went all Santiago once on a sunfish that weighed nearly a pound it was long before I knew Hemingway, the power of words, the pull of the water I battled the monster as only a nine-year-old could; with every fiber of my being strained to matching tautness of six-pound-test line at the end of Read more
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As a kid I collected rocks – as many colorful pebbles as my six-year-old jacket pockets could smuggle via subterfuge mom and dad later humored my geologic interests with a small, paperback, field guide to rocks – which I always took with on trips we took – grandpa in tow – playing along, helping me Read more
Ponderable polemics, poetic 