Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

  • Don Yoda

    Quixotic exploits in multiple life-genres satisfied, I am lacking though, in satisfactory resolutions ambiguity suits me beguiling, am I, in my befuddlement of others confounding doubters mirror voyeurism minus Dorian Gray ego, Carly Simon panache sing anyway, I cannot dapper enough, I am charm, it is, carries me sophisticated enough I know lost causes from… Read more

  • Pavement due

    Rusted, mangled hubcaps clutter road shoulder, ditches stray, chrome castoffs wildflowers of reckless neglect breakneck speed cratered highways, pilots disdain for flashing, yellow signs by the spadeful, I scoop well-intentioned, tar-coated fill into random potholes indifferent, life is, to the temporary, heavy nature of mundane cavity patches Hey, not my asphalt the road to hell… Read more

  • A poet does math

    I counted stars once not for any practical reason not for romance they patiently waited for me to finish, as if they cared I was sitting by a campfire spitting its cinders as sputtering death throes they fluttered skyward before dissolving I could not help but wonder if that is how stars came to be;… Read more

  • No fish story (for Amy)

    I am not carping here from poet’s perch; people often find my reel, romantic tale fishy Love is like shooting fish in a barrel – this I have known for long I have been one with the proverbial oaken-casked flounderer I am no fish out of water here nor do I have any other fish… 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

  • Afternoon at Lakewood

    Whatever remains lie beneath six, eight, feet; compacted dirt atop concrete lid, polished walnut box thirty years I have come to this spot far longer to this place to the eye, comfortably little is changed thirty years say everything has yes and no he would be one-hundred now hard to imagine him at a full… Read more

  • Vestiges

    As kids, we tied our fates to various inanimate yet participatory objects spun bottles Ouija boards dandelions professed proof of true loves brought cryptic messages all interpreted with certainty until the imagined magic wore off leaving us with our first taste of skepticism but the bottle could be redeemed for the deposit, the eye to… Read more

  • Gathered Pinecones

    From my book ‘Gathered Pinecones’ on sale now, in paperback or Kindle   http://lrd.to/gathered-pinecones Moored Morning sun of summer wafting through open, lake-front window each day awakening with a squint, gasp soft-focus of seven-tree birch stand backlit by various shades of dawn filtered through tall jack pines on Huxtable Point, opposite, eastern side, of Horseshoe Lake… Read more

  • Lost, found, holding on

    From my book ‘Lost, found, holding on’ Available in paperback or Kindle http://lrd.to/p6rxzwIMnD Salonica, goneica She loves me, she loves me not Played that game as a kid, for fun with and without the flower played it frequently later, for keeps Won once or twice I have over picked my life’s quota of prophetic daisies,… Read more

  • The Tragedy of Macself

    *Best read if imagined in the voice of say, Sir Patrick Stewart or Sir Ian McKellan Macself Act 1, Scene-hogger Is this a cell phone which I see before me, The camera toward my face? Come! Let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see me still. Art thou not, fatal vision,… Read more