Category Archives: Poetry

Myth

Posted on December 14, 2012 by sputterpub

The man is sky and woman is the earth; the night is bad and daytime is benign; Apollo sun, his sister moon: the birth of these ideas is obvious. Design a unicorn, but make him male and white, and have … Continue reading →

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Grooves

Posted on December 10, 2012 by sputterpub

Impressed by narrow chest behind me when we exited the opera’s airy tier, I hyper-noticed he was present then and wondered if he angled to be near. Of all the things we talked of with our food, I recollect the … Continue reading →

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Future

Posted on December 7, 2012 by sputterpub

The point is made, the argument succeeds: There’s likely lots of future left for me. I’m bound to have experiences, needs corrupted or fulfilled. Most probably I’ll love again, and certainly I’ll cry. For sure there are tomorrows to be … Continue reading →

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Cautery

Posted on December 3, 2012 by sputterpub

I met him on the road where they repair who, twice divorced and 40ish, begin the shaking off forgiveness, dye their hair, admit their own confusion with chagrin. I thinking we could link a bit to share a leg or … Continue reading →

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Words

Posted on November 30, 2012 by sputterpub

What good are words, at last she starts to ask, and why so wonderful do they still seem when they appear to fail at every task of deep significance? For she’ll esteem and honor words and use them very well, … Continue reading →

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Block

Posted on November 26, 2012 by sputterpub

I’ve been at this artistic discipline at least a thousand days now, don’t you know? And I can read and blush or groan or grin at poetry I wrote some time ago, except that I don’t want to see the … Continue reading →

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Death

Posted on November 23, 2012 by sputterpub

Sarcastic death, ironic circumstance: The wit may be divine that’s also mean, undignified or futile, and the dance the reaper leads is not a noble scene. Or if it is, its rareness makes it so – heroic, tragic, borne as … Continue reading →

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Burp

Posted on November 19, 2012 by sputterpub

A self-protecting soul projecting “no” was dining with a spirit whining “why?” But psyches in full broadcast couldn’t grow into coherence or compose reply. And that was that; there’s nothing more to feel except the indigestion from that meal.

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Impatient

Posted on November 16, 2012 by sputterpub

Impatient was the word I used to use to indicate that eagerness, the rush to put ideas in play. You must excuse my ignorance (I know enough to blush for it). I cannot be a patient one; I won’t sustain … Continue reading →

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Siren

Posted on November 12, 2012 by sputterpub

What better food than this can any give? Which nourishment will cater to you more? I offer this to you if you would live: a pint of love, a quart respect, a score allowing dance, inviting harmony, exploring where you … Continue reading →

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