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French Quarter coffee shop; ancient, transformed corner-building with a long view, a cloudy morning post-Saturday revelry, mingling with locals, the normal eclectic folks of ‘The Quarter’ just being; an older man, oblivious, sketches in a large pad, a young woman writes in a leather-clad journal, multiple laptops are in use, a variety of newspapers strewn… Read more
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Playful rat terrier with ball prancing triumphantly invoking her regal dignity; four-legged, conquering Kahn entering the wooden fenced city, blue ball clenched in death grip by jagged teeth ‘All hail the hero dog!’ Slobber-coated, bell-encasing rubber sphere lays in the grass where pretending-truculence dog has dropped it to subjugate knotted rope segment instead; fickle, dog-gone… Read more
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A log of pine a mug of coffee and thou Omar, I am not. – Mark L. Lucker © 2016 http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd Read more
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Campfire smoke makes a fine aphrodisiac but it lulls my wife to sleep making embers an ambiguous metaphor Read more
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I was a good friend of her brother – he knows, but has never said a word On the rare occasions we still meet he smiles a knowledgable, unbelieving, remembering grin and I always wonder, after all of the years that have passed, just how much she has told him… or if he figured it… Read more
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My teenage summers were spent on silver Greyhound SceniCruisers, going back to see Midwestern relatives who had stayed anchored there while my family forged westward to Colorado, returning home each August only as time for school neared I was a wizened city kid reveling in Norman Rockwell’s America fair, a fifteen-year old, middle-class Kerouac minus… Read more
WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker
Ponderable polemics, poetic 