Author Archives: sputterpub

Oxalisation

Posted on April 10, 2017 by sputterpub

My neighborhood’s oxalisated now. The yellow blooms make carpets in the sun. To finger-rake the foliage is how we weed the yard in April, leaving none although the flowers never hurt our eyes, and clover-cool the green is soft as … Continue reading →

Posted in Neighborhood, Poetry, Weather | Leave a comment

Metalwork

Posted on April 7, 2017 by sputterpub

It’s working well enough to earn renewal – the year’s experiment is a success. My life alone is precious like a jewel that nestles in the metalwork of stress. Today the crown sits heavy on my head; nostalgia and old … Continue reading →

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Bio

Posted on April 6, 2017 by sputterpub

At twenty years I knew a girl in quite a situation: between two guys and in a whirl of raging vacillation. For one she loved but circled wide, abhorring his depression. The other simply satisfied with joyful self-expression. She tried … Continue reading →

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Motes from 1996

Posted on April 5, 2017 by sputterpub

Some time after the hysterectomy, she asked her surgeon what was in the place where her uterus used to be. The answer was given with a grin: “You know those fabric-covered spring snakes that jump out of a joke can? … Continue reading →

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Anachrony

Posted on April 4, 2017 by sputterpub

Rereading prose composed two decades past, I’m struck with three anachronistic themes. Our ways of life are modifying fast and so I have to choose between old memes and explanations, or reworking now the plot to fit our modern wired … Continue reading →

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Gardens

Posted on April 3, 2017 by sputterpub

The exercise was fourteen lines from me today. I sought a topic for my pen, and thought to draw the angry energy my daughter broadcasts often and again. Except as I set out to catch a phrase, my net attention … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Weather | Leave a comment

Perspective

Posted on March 31, 2017 by sputterpub

I don’t think kids appreciate the beauties of the earth. They aim attention elsewhere, I recall. It seems to me my memories, from 17 to birth, are made of fears, embarrassments, and all ingredients for peril or ability to fly … Continue reading →

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Profiles in the Yard

Posted on March 30, 2017 by sputterpub

The squirrels are the vandals in the yard. I used to think them cute, until I caught them digging holes to nowhere: no regard for shoots or seedlings. And you know I thought the cats were fine the neighbors loved … Continue reading →

Posted in Critters, Neighborhood, Poetry | Leave a comment

Roomom

Posted on March 29, 2017 by sputterpub

San Francisco is the metropolis of the west coast, but it’s only seven by seven miles. It’s also the business capital of its side of the country, but its financial district is only a few blocks on a side. So … Continue reading →

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Now

Posted on March 28, 2017 by sputterpub

I’m losing people now. The rate of birth of grandkids doesn’t nearly compensate for folks I used to love who’ve left the earth, and for acquaintances who relocate as age inspires them to seek more heat or less expensive residence. … Continue reading →

Posted in Aging, Poetry | Leave a comment