Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

poetic

  • Distance

    The expanse is self-inflicted a self-exiled expatriate; I am here, not there answered a calling, have since done my best at least pretty well considering restraints with which I had to work sometimes I feel my work here done my time here over needed elsewhere, so I try to believe but the work here is Read more

  • 3:22 P.M.

    Smiling broadly from the bottom step from yellow-and-black command ship my forty-two pound, thirty-seven inch Neil Armstrong plops dustily down Successful touchdown, Tranquility base. Home, The Eagle has landed. Perfect timing; his silver-and-black supply case is depleted, as is he. Time to replenish, explore local terrain, relax, recount the day’s adventure Pausing, he then runs Read more

  • Freshness

    cardboard Tupperware crowds my attic keeping my soul preserved if not fresh rows, stacks of oddly square bowls repositories of then; lost loves, past successes other leftovers sometimes leftovers trump a fresh lunch filling rejuvenation found amidst the smell musty brown wood pulp – Mark Lucker Read more

  • In (and out) of the loop

    local coffee place sipping my solitary cup checking email next table over a group of men older than I, age gap not of grandfather-grandson severity the six zealously swap tales of doctor visits with enthusiasm once reserved for one-night stands summer romances familiar names swirl through their regaling conversation; Alzheimer’s, Chron’s, Cirrhosis taking the places Read more

  • Taking a concession stand

    I hate it when somebody states they are ‘making concessions’ to middle age I find mid-life to be a wonderful carnival the only concessions those to be purchased to quench a thirst sate a hunger I stroll the middle age midway impervious to the shill’s siren-call of con-men barkers offering relief enhancement and release me, Read more

  • Making note

    A cheap flash drive containing one document; PDF file of a note – my message of hopeful wonder, Robinson Crusoe-like whim I seal the technological romanticism tightly in a Mason Jar, throw it into the ocean at night as the tide predictably recedes Sitting on the beach I ponder as only a man with youthful 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

  • 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