Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

  • 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

  • Restraint

    I burn for you. Remembering school hallway posters advising when in flames, stop, drop, roll. Subconsciously heeding long suppressed laminated pictograms I have resisted the urge to do the safe thing whenever you walk in as my resulting floor gyrations would lack the panache to qualify as a mating dance ala National Geographic Still, I… Read more

  • Cross training

    Some think we’re simply running away not believing that what we are running to is something, someplace that needs us just as much as we need it Just the act of running moves you away from something, towards something else life is running; not living is sitting still We are running away; running away from… Read more

  • Renovating

    Vestiges of then subtly shade the now today is decorated with yesterday’s hues accenting modern life with retro-chic shades life-makeovers via t.v. show gurus who use family tschotskes as odd focal points visual statements from an old magazine viewed in current settings; obligatory oohing-and-ahhing at the big reveal fading into jaundiced indifference once the show… Read more