Author Archives: sputterpub

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

Sonneting

Posted on March 27, 2017 by sputterpub

What’s up? You must have something on your mind, some statement or opinion for today. Of course you do – you think and feel in kind and attitudes developed on your way by parents, mentors, or your own accord. I’ve … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Writing | Leave a comment

Change in Plan

Posted on March 24, 2017 by sputterpub

I didn’t plan to ride the bike today. I thought I’d take another morning off. There’s stitches in my mouth, it hurts to say, and last week’s cold has left a noisy cough. But after I was up and scanned … Continue reading →

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Butterfly

Posted on March 23, 2017 by sputterpub

A butterfly is never old or strong. She greets the world as worm upon a leaf, and inches through beginning in the long phase of herself: a fuzzy garden thief. She rests awhile cased in her cocoon, suspended senseless while … Continue reading →

Posted in Critters, Poetry | Leave a comment

The Argument

Posted on March 22, 2017 by sputterpub

Pam isn’t having a good morning. She’s been up an hour and still isn’t ready to leave the house. She carries her mug around as she rides herd on her nine year-old daughter and sees to her own scattered routine, … Continue reading →

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On Time

Posted on March 21, 2017 by sputterpub

She woke to windy winter storm in spring. She window-watched the weather as she dressed. The sky stopped streaming long enough to bring the dog outside, reluctantly at best. And still the looming clouds held back their freight of cold … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Weather | Leave a comment

Asphalt

Posted on March 20, 2017 by sputterpub

We didn’t ask the city to repave our quiet street. Nobody made a stir. We weren’t pothole-pocked and didn’t crave improvement, didn’t lobby or demur. But sawhorse signs appeared with closure dates, and trucks with backup beeps like metronomes, and … Continue reading →

Posted in Neighborhood, Poetry | Leave a comment

Sense

Posted on March 17, 2017 by sputterpub

Does scarlet look as thick to you as me? Do trumpets sound as vibrant in your ears? Does velvet have the same consistency between your fingertips? And what appears behind your eyelids closed against the sun? Apparently agreeing sensibly, I … Continue reading →

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Decadancing

Posted on March 16, 2017 by sputterpub

I wonder if I never got it right, imagining improvement as the goal. The world has ever told me that I’m bright, and all my life I’ve pondered what the whole existence thing is for. My question’s why before the … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Question | Leave a comment