Author Archives: sputterpub

Like a Broken Clock

I haven’t reported about Bertilda for a while. That’s because she’s like a headache: only considered if causing pain. Most of us don’t notice when the headache eases. It took us a couple of months to realize how quiet the … Continue reading →

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Nurslings

I met twin newborn kids a few weeks back, who wobbled round an hour after birth on sturdy knobby legs. Their coats were black and white, their eyes alert upon the earth; they walked unaided to their nourishment. Precociously capricious … Continue reading →

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Oxalisation

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 →

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Metalwork

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

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

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

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

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 →

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Perspective

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

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 →

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