Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

campfire

  • No French Cuffs

    Plaid flannel shirts of my Northwoods youth smelled of beer and pine cones boat motor gasoline and fresh caught sunfish wood smoke and filtered Winstons when I was a kid the intertwined, pungent aromas of cervelat salami plumbers’ grease, house paint mingled freely, locked in square-patterned fibers, always-rolled-up sleeves no amount of Fels-Naptha soap could Read more

  • First dance

    A ma-and-pa resort, small lake north woods of Minnesota small office behind quaint bar, twelve small cabins dozen aluminum rowboats to use; minnows, worms, leeches for sale amenities, ala Angler’s Edge Joe & Gloria’s place The bar a hangout for township locals grandpa Ivar and I frequented the nicked, cigarette-burn speckled polished, yellow-varnished bar for Read more

  • Campfire poem #49

    A log of pine a mug of coffee and thou Omar, I am not.   – Mark L. Lucker © 2016 http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd Read more

  • Campfire poem #71

    Campfire smoke makes a fine aphrodisiac but it lulls my wife to sleep making embers an ambiguous metaphor Read more