Category Archives: Family

Recording

Posted on January 8, 2020 by sputterpub

A dowager is not a matriarch, no matter what you call yourself these days. Subordinate to spouse, we heard your bark but never feared you’d bite us, or amaze us with authority, or guide us right. We always knew, from … Continue reading →

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Sam’s Bad Dream

Posted on January 6, 2020 by sputterpub

I wondered once why infants have bad dreams who haven’t lived enough to learn to fear, and what comprises puppy nightmare themes, and how a kitten monster could appear. And I don’t have an answer, but I know it’s true … Continue reading →

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Revisits

Posted on January 3, 2020 by sputterpub

As I review assorted escapades of youth, of 12, 16, and 21, I clearly see they feature tones and shades of sexual predation. What was done was never charged: too mild then and, too, I thought myself mature and strong … Continue reading →

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Before

Posted on January 1, 2020 by sputterpub

The feelings I remember from my youth were anger and impatience with my lot of noodgy mom, protective dad – in truth, if I’d sufficient freedom, I forgot (and that’s not likely – I recorded notes in poems and diaries … Continue reading →

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Love Among Young Cousins

Posted on December 18, 2019 by sputterpub

The gentleman was young and shy and sweet. The lady was his junior by four years. His attitude was courtly, hers replete with burning quests for answers. It appears that theirs were kindred minds, but unmatched themes in fact. Their … Continue reading →

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A Great Age

Posted on December 4, 2019 by sputterpub

The vet described my dog’s old age as “great” when she surpassed her breed’s expected span. He used the adjective to designate immensity instead of good or grand. Likewise your age is great at 94, although you seem to hate … Continue reading →

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Pete’ll Eat It (3-Pete)

Posted on November 15, 2019 by sputterpub

My cousin was a sturdy fragile boy, sun-sensitive and dad-less in LA, who often visited. Then he’d enjoy our walks-and-talks, and time my father made for him – we welcomed him with love and board – we corresponded when apart … Continue reading →

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Re Pete

Posted on November 13, 2019 by sputterpub

The first defender of my poetry is dead. When I was young, my brothers shot at birds and rabbits in the scrub and scree behind the school. Their cruelty made me hot with indignation comforting to vent. My cousin, older, … Continue reading →

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Cuz (Pete)

Posted on November 11, 2019 by sputterpub

The grief engulfed me when I tried to speak. Of course I mourned your unexpected death, but as I talked my tears began to leak, informing me along with ragged breath. You weren’t young but weren’t ancient yet. You’d had … Continue reading →

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Familiar

Posted on November 5, 2019 by sputterpub

I hang out with a toddler twice a week. I focus on him focusing on sights, expressing feelings, learning how to speak, reducing naps for longer sleep at nights. I’m also spending hours, now and then, with stroke recovery. At … Continue reading →

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