Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

  • Like son, like father

    The daughter of close friends looks at my son like that they have known each other since first grade – a time when looking at each other like that would have been unthinkable; icky, gross…dis-GUS-ting! Now she looks at him like that When I first noticed her looking his obliviousness was a comfort but now… Read more

  • Saturday morning

    first light of day bright silence rules sun, fresh coffee illuminate fleeting, holy solemnity First steaming mug is communion, a shared indulgence professing to dog; Rat-terrier, canine father-confessor What can I say? We’re Protestants Read more

  • A musing

    You seduced me. Drew me in played me for the fool and I bit took the bait tried to dart away only driving the hook in deeper now here I am at your pondering mercy; throw me in your creel fry me up toss me back let me swim away or watch me flopping for… Read more

  • Progression

    The faith of middle age bears little resemblance to the spirituality of youth what passed for insight at twenty was a liturgical hedonism of belief The faith of my middle years is more tangible, palpable, believable, less explainable but far more credible to anyone bothering to pay attention. Read more

  • Accessorizing rime

    The albatross swinging from around my neck is simply a rental like a tux, I pick one up just when needed for extremely formal occasions only Read more

  • Reading each other

    She is reclining, reading on bed or couch; on her side, jean-clad legs in fetal curl, head propped up on cocked, sensual elbow, other hand holding the book her eyes flitting through her fiction sometimes she is on her back, nestled in pillows, engrossed, both hands grasping stomach-resting book bare feet crossed at the ankles… Read more

  • Guardian pal

    Like a shadow you know is there but disappears when you turn to confront it it’s there, but he’s not Following discreetly, benignly nourish part of the atmosphere minus the trench coat Sometimes light diffuses instead of illuminates My father’s memory, legacy, aura follows me no, I am not paranoid just aware of the oddly… Read more

  • Outside the lines

    You opened me like a book thumbed through the pages of boldly outlined pictures mercurially finding one you chose your weapon from boxed arsenal; a sharp one, new to the point and unused you are the 64-box of Crayola’s using all the colors of you to flesh out the person that is me the picture… Read more

  • Antipasto!

    Dinner with my Valentine; wine and Sinatra Fine haiku-be-do-be-do… Read more

  • In step

    Time it is said tritely marches on its cadence precise as any honor guard’s mostly. At times time is less a rhythmic beat more the tuning of a cheap guitar MY my my dog dog has – HAS fleas. Fleas. fleeeeas. my.dog. has. fleas. Time occasionally stumbles, marches on, always finishes the parade. Read more