Tuck Magazine started out as a literary and arts publication covering poetry, fiction, reviews, art, and photography in October 2011. It went on to concentrate on human rights, politics, and social justice around the world, but I didn’t discover it until the autumn of 2018, when I had a burst of poetry regarding social issues, and Editor Michael Organ was kind enough to accept those poems.
In its editorial of May 3, 2019, Editorial: The Last Word, Tuck Magazine announced the end of its publication.
These are the poems published by Tuck Magazine:
What to Do When the Moon Won’t Be Your Mistress
Clouds will not be parted by presumptuous hands.
Yes, it may be a thin veil that separates you,
but it may as well be a swimsuit
worn by a young teen who is not impressed
by machismo worn like entitlement.
True, there is no need to silence her
when the vacuum of space buffers better
than loud music in a remote second-floor bedroom,
but even your clouded judgment must see
she cannot be restrained.
You may think you can bare the moon.
After all, boys will be boys. Besides, who would tell?
But if she finds her voice, others will question you,
so keep a calendar. It could turn the tide
if you need to talk your way out of anything.
Better yet, have a stiff drink
and keep your hands to yourself.
(Regarding the Brett Kavanaugh hearings)
Too Silent, Too Long
Voices remain silent.
but they don’t, really,
so they feel helpless
in their not knowing.
Ask the victims?
Make them relive their pain?
not knowing what to do,
while the survivors suffer
inner voices with their own
And the accused,
or unaccused, given
live free of conviction.
Aside from the victims,
is anyone innocent?
License to Hate
That’s what you said.
It’s not about color, politics, or religion.
You’re everyone’s friend.
Until you’re not. So you demonize,
stoking a climate of hate. Who’s the real demon?
In spite of their temporal source,
your words are not spoken in a vacuum.
Of course, all you have to do is disavow
anyone who puts your words into action.
Tweets from a hawk are music to no one,
with the real enemy fear mongering from the bully pulpit.
The Joke Is on Us
We cringe at the thought of foreign agents
unleashing their terror upon us;
cordon off suspicious packages;
remove our shoes before boarding a plane;
subconsciously – hell, consciously –
profile certain attributes as alien, suspicious,
worthy of scorn and shunning,
terrorized by our own fear. To what end?
A man walks into a bar.
(mass shooting – Thousand Oaks, California)
anguish measured in tears
one foot in front of the other
families and miles
measured in the thousands
asylum their only need
pleas falling on deaf ears
dream now a nightmare
border crossing rebuffed
canisters traded for rocks
thrown in protest
tear gas for temerity
delivery indiscriminate, for families
lumped together as criminals
shed a tear for the child who sheds a tear
(US southern border)
Many thanks to Michael Organ
for his efforts and for publishing these.
And now to find a home for a poem that would have been a good fit for Tuck Magazine.
Image source: Tuck Magazine website header