Category Archives: Poetry

Build Back Better

Posted on August 24, 2020 by sputterpub

I almost died when I was 35; emergencies and error laid me low. But after weeks of pain I was alive – they pulled my tubes the night before I’d go back home, and left me in my sterile cell, … Continue reading →

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A Little Adult

Posted on August 23, 2020 by sputterpub

I told my toddler buddy he’d be four next time he has a birthday. He replied “and will I be a grownup then?” (Mature for forty months, he’s lately working on the values of our common number lore). “I’m happy … Continue reading →

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Tower Fan

Posted on August 22, 2020 by sputterpub

I can’t remember when I bought this fan – a tower that can radiate the air: create a V-shaped breeze for pre-set span of operation, placed most anywhere. I used to use it for the dozen days a year, when … Continue reading →

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Still in My Room

Posted on August 21, 2020 by sputterpub

I wonder was my mother scared of me; I think she was expecting someone less. By far the youngest in her family, she never thought I’d bring her so much stress. I wasn’t good at tractable or sweet. She called … Continue reading →

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IVV

Posted on August 20, 2020 by sputterpub

“In vino veritas” is not quite true, unless by “true” we really mean “sincere.” While alcohol can dis-inhibit you, it won’t increase your honesty at all. The qualities you tried to hide from view – embarrassments and actions causing shame … Continue reading →

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New Neck

Posted on August 19, 2020 by sputterpub

At least a quarter century ago, they said I had arthritis in my neck. Referred for therapy, I got to know techniques to keep increasing pain in check, and traction to resuscitate the wreck between my shoulders. That was when … Continue reading →

Posted in Coronaverse, Health, Poetry | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Dawn Delay

Posted on August 18, 2020 by sputterpub

I’ve been an early riser 30 years or so, with energy from dawn to 3. I’m waking now before the sun appears, but that’s from time of year and not from me. I never set a clock; I’m naturally awake … Continue reading →

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Fern Volunteers

Posted on August 17, 2020 by sputterpub

This year, beneath the young persimmon tree, a clutch of ferns unfurled. They seemed to feather symbiotically: beginning tightly curled, and opening beneath the summer shade, like fans abutting bark, retaining earth near roots the tree has laid within the … Continue reading →

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A Little Liveliness

Posted on August 16, 2020 by sputterpub

The COVID quiet’s punctured now and then by sounds of interaction near my home. Across and up I hear the sounds of men where only women dwell. My neighbor’s door is propped ajar – I see her figure when she … Continue reading →

Posted in Coronaverse, Home, Poetry, Writing | Tagged , | 1 Comment

Futility

Posted on August 15, 2020 by sputterpub

The future isn’t boding well, and yet, I’m doubtful that it ever has before. Supposed to learn from history, we let today distract. Instead of knowing more, we act as if it’s different. We forget, we never knew or, even … Continue reading →

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