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Photo Credit: Kristyn Greenfield of KG Creative Photography, LLC as posted on https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/marcus-wicker
Marcus Wicker is part of the newest generation of African American poets; his debut collection, Maybe the Saddest Thing, was published as part of the prestigious National Poetry Series. The apt description of the collection by D.A. Powell, the selecting judge, echoes the poems themselves: "Action painting meets the pop of hip-hop. Here is a dashing figure of speech and preach, a lovepoet to the stars... lyric wizardry astound the ears."
Source: https://www.shelf-awareness.com/readers-issue.html?issue=144#m2758
Live Readings
Live Readings
Poems
Poems
Morning in the Burbs
But God, I love the cul-de-sacat seven a.m., I can’t help it!This wind-streaming-between-grass-blades point of view! But this punctuated lawnI stand upon! The family of shrubs, flat-topped & shapedinto a question mark: the eye of its mouth, my favoritestanding place. A painter’s steelscaffold: against the neighbor’sgutter like a concert glockenspiel. The souped-up air conditioning: in monk octaves. The sheerwash of it all, water rushingfrom a bucket: A man soaping down his Saab, tie sly tucked.Two cable guys sharing a jointin a horseshoe drive: But God,I envy their temporary sweet spot: snippet of carefree chummery.This mum machine hard at workbefore work. The: The nothinggetting in. The nothing getting out:
-from Silencer (2017)
But God, I love the cul-de-sacat seven a.m., I can’t help it!This wind-streaming-between-grass-blades point of view! But this punctuated lawnI stand upon! The family of shrubs, flat-topped & shapedinto a question mark: the eye of its mouth, my favoritestanding place. A painter’s steelscaffold: against the neighbor’sgutter like a concert glockenspiel. The souped-up air conditioning: in monk octaves. The sheerwash of it all, water rushingfrom a bucket: A man soaping down his Saab, tie sly tucked.Two cable guys sharing a jointin a horseshoe drive: But God,I envy their temporary sweet spot: snippet of carefree chummery.This mum machine hard at workbefore work. The: The nothinggetting in. The nothing getting out:
-from Silencer (2017)
On Being Told Prayer Is a Crutch
So what if it is?Clear days, I understand it,molecules scatter azurelight from an in-his-feelings-sun, that’s whythe sky is blue. We knowtoo much, or want to.Not the Bible, but the i-Phone tells us so.Devotion doesn’t workthat way, but it does. Notthe path, per se, for methough, a trail back to grace-fully living with one’s lightshone toward higheraxioms than Ican presently see.It’s the immediacyof a just-thoughtthought, thunderinginto a deviceof my own decided making,prayer. You know it as Siri.I call it instant intimacy.
-from Silencer (2017)
So what if it is?Clear days, I understand it,molecules scatter azurelight from an in-his-feelings-sun, that’s whythe sky is blue. We knowtoo much, or want to.Not the Bible, but the i-Phone tells us so.Devotion doesn’t workthat way, but it does. Notthe path, per se, for methough, a trail back to grace-fully living with one’s lightshone toward higheraxioms than Ican presently see.It’s the immediacyof a just-thoughtthought, thunderinginto a deviceof my own decided making,prayer. You know it as Siri.I call it instant intimacy.
-from Silencer (2017)
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