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from Low Cool (2008) by Mark Lesseraux

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The miasma got redirected
Into the headlights of complacency
Where the coddled tyrant wept
Into a handkerchief of memories
Beneath an onion flavored sky
Breathing down on Custer’s cavalry
Who though legless and half conscious
Drank to better days and victory

In the morning they ate lunch
So as not to underestimate
The precision with which minutes
Outrun those who would procrastinate
While their daughters and their sons
Sip mimosas out at Wimbledon
Cuz the children who dig ditches
Bring bag lunches with sandwiches

Contrary to opinion
He was something like his sister
Who decapitated penguins
From a distance just with scissors

Cutting through the dead of winter
Like a fighter plane messiah
In a silver spoon airliner
Across France and Asia Minor

The pontificating orphan
Preached to throngs in Central Africa
With his mother taking notes
For his dad the dues ex machine

Who is caring for the kid
With big ideas and no direction home
As annoying as he is
He’s still our kid, he’s still our kid


from Low Cool (2008), released February 7, 2008


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Mark Lesseraux New York

Mark’s mother is Irish Catholic. His father was a Russian Jew. In the 2nd grade, Mark veered “off course”… secretly. It is not clear how the "thread" was lost, but it had to do with a botched reading assignment; a chapter in a blue and yellow book left unread. Later, there were 2 nervous system glitches and at least 2 ecstatic dot connecting sessions. Finally, a Need… to sing. ... more

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