oh dear oh dear oh dear dear me what a time we’ve had on this long journey to neverland   I am lost to you and sometimes me to you traveling through time I come upon you then and now sometimes I don’t know when…

When the air gets stale and musty in the swamp of late July The cicadas scream all day at night the possums start to cry The old man’s drunk and mad again killing in self-defense is not a crime It’s too damn hot to tolerate…

Two Fish, Carl Sandberg Their speech could not possibly have been scarlet Unless they were dead, Then, maybe, in the throes of being Pulled in by a hook through the lip MAYBE their speech could have been scarlet. Or did you mean “scar-lipped”? Late night…

forward moving one foot in front of the other to keep our heads above water when paths wash out in flash floods forcing us into kayaks when we thought running shoes would do.   having a compass astrolabe star chart is good practice even if…

This poem, “A Vine of Cute Design” is a companion poem to “A Weed of Design”     I never knew about it, this vine so new to me– My friend said, “Look how pretty!” and I bought it just to see The blooms that…

This is crazy How do I say this? What should I do? I feel like I’m going to explode We aren’t your regular two The two of us In our own world I am not sure how to say this? I don’t know what to…

What if Jack Kerouac met Robert Frost on a road well traveled but with still enough cachet amongst contemplative vagabonds to capture the moments inherent in going ‘he went thataway’   – Mark L. Lucker © 2019 http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

People say green thumbs are rare Because they know not To coax growth from dirt Is to labour Watered with the eye’s diamonds Shone with topaz and citrine Fed with air To grow gold from the depths.

I love all things Parisienne and French Eiffel Tower and flowered park bench sculpture gardens and oil paints drench.   I dislike snakes and spiders hairy rainy days and drunkards merry mostly workdays with splash days flee.   And teacher in London now I be….

I want to burn Not like a match’s golden flame, Or fiery pixels in an online warrior’s game. Not lava red or like a blinding solar flare; Not glowing embers or a sharp prismatic glare. I will fill my lungs with uncorrupted light, Intimidate with…