Two Poems
Mark Blaeuer

Novel Characters Near a Saloon

A black tail swishes, numbering the men
who focus on the buddha horse outside.
These men—known as agnostics, lower case—
have wandered off vast prairie, mythocide
in every holster, threatening the face
of pseudoscientific acumen
or what-you-will, an elephant none saw
so much as felt. A pair of bat-wing doors
disperse smoke in long summer business hours,
but our posse looks away, toward law
more pertinent to ultra-paladin
than scum, to find there—maybe—argument
for rationality, the valiant,
a time machine, or just a bit of zen.

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Mark’s notes: “This poem was initially published in Pulsebeat, May 2022. Young men from urban families occasionally found it irresistible to leave home and try their luck in the Old West or whatever war was then raging, at least partially to satisfy a thirst for adventure. In the 19th century, people commonly referred to this as ‘going off to see the elephant.’ The swinging doors invariably visible at saloons in television or film westerns are also called bat-wing doors. Heavy exterior doors were indeed used at such establishments when security and/or cold weather became a concern.“

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Three and a Half Types of Ambiguity

Men search for meaning, Viktor Frankl said.
Eschew outlandish frankincense-gold-myrrh
routine. Absurdity vaults way ahead.
The Meerschaum Orca wins a Pulitzer:

a play unwritten as of yet. So, muse
tough rhythm out like Chester A. Burnett
if that inspire atavistic blues.
The Meerschaum Orca rock another set.

Utopias of noir and Naugahyde
entice downtown. Anticipating dim
communal impetus, we’re toxified—
the Meerschaum Orca forlorn, 2 a.m.

Anemic unicorns swoon in Times Square.
The Meerschaum Orca’s verdict: “C’est la guerre.”

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Mark’s notes: “This piece appeared in Wine Cellar Press, October 2021. The Frankl book Man’s Search for Meaning was required for incoming students at my undergraduate school, Illinois College, in 1972 (when I was a freshman). Burnett was a blues musician better known as Howlin’ Wolf.”

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Mark Blaeuer lives just south of Lofton, Arkansas. He was a ranger for many years at nearby Hot Springs National Park, and his M.A. is in Anthropology. His poems (and a few translations from Spanish) have appeared in 100+ magazines, such as Better Than Starbucks, Bindweed, The Borough, Ezra, Grand Little Things, The HyperTexts, Lighten Up Online, The Orchards, Passionfruit Review, Pulsebeat, Susurrus, Ultramarine Literary Review, and Wales Haiku Journal. His collections are Fragments of a Nocturne (Kelsay Books, 2014) and Surfacing Below (SurVision Books, 2025). He’s also written a couple of history books: Didn’t All the Indians Come Here? (Eastern National, 2007 [out of print]) and Baseball in Hot Springs (Arcadia Publishing, 2016).

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Two Poems Mark Blaeuer

Two Poems
Mark Blaeuer