Pardon Me

Pardon me, 
While I push
The world back into place
It’s gone sideways
Kicked around, by
Thieves, liars and spies
Poverty and more

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Mark Mularz
Might Have Been

Now & then

Something                                                                       is said
That helps me remember                              her                             even

                                                        When my mind is full

It was her boldful way                             of being                             both
Masterful, fantastic                                           & really                         really

                            Heartbreaking                                                                even
                                                                      In ordinary light.

In my memoir                                             she shines                                  bright

Had grandeur                                            to spare
                                                                                                  A summer’s thrill     

Leaving behind                                    words without music         & I    

Wishing for amnesia                                   No, no          she whispered:                    

Let it linger                                                   let it lingerrrrr    

Any other man                           would’ve opened his arms                           to her

She guided my                             exodus                                          from innocence                 

It Was                                                enough to make                        a guy                


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Mark Mularz
Love's Weight

Under the tender weight of love
The curtains were thick
And drawn tight

Laboring late into the night
Preferring the temporal to the eternal
While wading through pools of sleep

From within woods deep
Oh, save me, save me
Whispered in my ear

I awoke, clear headed
From a world next to this one
As time faded with our youth

She drew nearer
There were salt on her lips
We thought up a new version
Of the old life and, thought
How it had been
All along

How simply this was happening
As it should
Surely, this is a greeting

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Mark Mularz
In The Depth of Air

On the edge
          Of air & land
                    Fluttering among
                              Nature’s sweetest things

In a slow silent ceremony
          Fevered legs cool & become one
                    A hidden nest
                              Most precious
In the cozy morning mist
          Flannelled memories linger &
                    Harbor swans
                              Swim silently, faithfully
                                        Waiting for us

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Mark Mularz
I Will Never Know

As a passerby
Among many of many
Our eyes did meet
Our names,
Not even whispered
I heard
Not-a-word, just
Beautiful bubbles, bursting
Beyond, babbling
Mouthing memories
Of this, I’m sure

Go forth & forth
Years afar
Over mountains
Across seas, 
Befriend, prairie dogs
Pluck desert thorns
Swim Italian fountains &
Taste snow
If you will, 
Little dear
I will never know

How could I not
But wish, yours
As good as mine
Forecasting a time
I will never know
Even as I am
Still here

Quick with life
Little dear

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Mark Mularz
I Was/I Am

I was/I am field worker miles of sugar beets
I was/I am a snow removal expert
I was/I m a paperboy (the Fargo Forum)
I was/I am a little league umpire (calling more balls than strikes)
I was/I am a hitchhiker (9,432 miles +/-)
I was/ I am a house painter (big and small)
I was/I am a tree planter (Big Horn Mountains)
I was/I am a carpenter (power tool & mashed thumbs
I was/I am a dishwasher (Professionally)
I was/I am a janitor (the graveyard shift)
I was/I am a gardener (specializing in roses)
I was/I am a clown (but no fool
I was/I am a machinist (cutting/threading 4” pipe
I was/I am an elevator worker (fabricated & assembled the damn things
I am an artist (photographic process)
I am a psychoanalyst (a considerer things)

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Mark Mularz
I Am

I am
(In this order)
A man
And former hitchhiker
I hail from the woods of Northern Minnesota, Close to the great prairies of the Dakotas.
I emigrated to California 40 years ago.
I am not
Young or old—nor middle aged.

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Mark Mularz
Greco Wrestlers

These eyes
Have no master
Living on their own
Rebels to the end
Safely tented

Like Greco wrestlers
Sufi twirlers
Everything becomes
A Picasso painting

Twist and shout
Shuck & jive
What world is this
Not yours but mine.

The softest eyelids
As the day dims low
Morning, noon, night

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Mark Mularz
A Call Up

The old brown shoes
Well past their first bloom
Broken in and broken down
At the end of the row
With frayed laces
Clinging to
Dancing memories

How does it wait
This neglected path, and
Not weed up
Thorny, hide itself
After leaving its’ indelible trace
Towards this future

There is a sonorous call
Echoing among the trees
Mingling between little sleeps, and
The still white crane
Waits at the water’s edge
To strike

When standing there long enough
There are muffled sounds
Early music sweeping in
Like the first time my mother’s hand
Brushed against my brow

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Mark Mularz