Category Archives: Poetry

Field Trip on BART

Posted on September 25, 2015 by sputterpub

We stop in downtown Berkeley, and the car is overrun by youngsters out of school. Invaders of the quiet – that they are – who tripping to the field obey the rule of buddies and the principal request: “You guys, … Continue reading →

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I Never Tried This Wisdom On Before

Posted on September 24, 2015 by sputterpub

The sky could bluer be, but all is clean from rain and crisp with autumn chill. The plants deciduous have put aside their green, as I collect the wisdom weather grants. I’ve grown too old to wear confusion well. I’m … Continue reading →

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Clock Radio

Posted on September 22, 2015 by sputterpub

I didn’t mind the volume or the tone – fidelity was no big deal for me – but I made sure to set the clock to drone me early up, so I could shop and be at work ahead of … Continue reading →

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Breakfast at Bruno’s

Posted on September 21, 2015 by sputterpub

The waitress didn’t look that old to me but I was using eyes no longer young, and as she talked of her large family her years derived their number from her tongue. Her thinning hair was process-toned and -curled. Her … Continue reading →

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Yeah, But…

Posted on September 18, 2015 by sputterpub

I’m not enjoying aging very much: the looser skin; the evening lassitude; the loss of visibility; the touch of varied ailments; disappointing food; the fear of falling down; the drive to nap; the mislaid nouns and names I now forget; … Continue reading →

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Counting

Posted on September 17, 2015 by sputterpub

The sky this morning leaks upon the ground, extending chilly dampness down to me, implying nature woke and looked and frowned: Now that’s a cheap pathetic fallacy. The matter isn’t fog – what irritates are puppies whining, clients wanting work, … Continue reading →

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Wise Surprise

Posted on September 15, 2015 by sputterpub

She aims for where she thinks she wants to go, succeeding more than often to arrive, but sometimes it’s the journey in the know; instead of her, the process makes the drive. And she is looking backwards in that case … Continue reading →

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13 Balls

Posted on September 14, 2015 by sputterpub

Have I remembered everything I thought I had to do? And planned to do them well? And started doing? Or will lessons taught by time speak forcefully enough to quell the nag that’s ridden me since childhood, and override the … Continue reading →

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Rain Dance

Posted on September 11, 2015 by sputterpub

You used to tell me, halfway serious, that I should take the measure of our years, and write a book of them and love and us. Remember that? I do, but it appears that there was either nothing there at … Continue reading →

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Subjunctives

Posted on September 10, 2015 by sputterpub

If I were but a mediocre poet and loved an existentialist like you, I’d find the words to make the whole world know it but as it is I’m not, so which is true? Am I in you discovering my … Continue reading →

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