Science Gets in the Way

Posted on July 26, 2020 by sputterpub

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The journalists wanna rake over
the evidence Feds won’t make over.
But research is clear
tests would just interfere.
We can’t let the science take over.

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Humidity

Posted on July 25, 2020 by sputterpub

Resealed

They say it doesn’t
flourish in humidity.
We’re blessed with damp air.

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Say Which?

Posted on July 24, 2020 by sputterpub

Masks

The bug is new, and creatures who should lead
are aiming, if they have an aim, to block
emerging facts from notice. They impede
statistics, bury data. It would shock
us but our tolerance to stupid, bad
and venal is beyond absurdity.
Decisions we deplore and deem as mad
have burst the bounds of incredulity.

We know so little. Every clue we get
is masked or filtered like a nurse’s face.
We haven’t figured out prevention yet,
although we wash and hunker down in place,
and try to follow masking protocols
which won’t protect from viral aerosols.

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Benign Neglect

Posted on July 23, 2020 by sputterpub

Bud

My garden attitude’s benign neglect;
I never went for soil on my hands
or stooping. I’m so old my neck is wrecked
from telephones and tension – I don’t need
to stress my knees and back as I’d expect
if I were to address each sprouting weed.
Now trapped at home, I notice and inspect
the buds of roses, where the frond expands,
and how the light is perfectly correct.

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Bad Spit

Posted on July 22, 2020 by sputterpub

tools

The root canal and implant surgery,
my dental treatments during quarantine,
one necessary, one appropriate,
are why I ventured from the sanity
of home alone and comfortable hygiene
(the pain and symptoms weren’t counterfeit).
A hair salon I’d fain be going to,
and restaurants I miss would be my scene,
but I’m compelled in dental chairs to sit.
My mouth is weak. My problem’s owing to
bad spit.

(Curtal Sonnet)

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My Hermitage

Posted on July 21, 2020 by sputterpub

House Arrest

My hermitage was built last century –
three score and sixteen years ago (they say,
who keep a file on the property).
Constructed as a guest house then, today
the Codes would not permit my place to be
so on-the-edge it’s just a wall away
from neighbors. Perfect privacy is worth
investing in my favorite spot on earth.

(Ottava Rima)

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The Keyhole

Posted on July 20, 2020 by sputterpub

nostalgic-warehouse-entry-door-knobs-749520-64_300

He has a walk-through bedroom, in between
his parents’ and the kitchen’s narrow end.
(Their flat is old – Victorian or Queen
Anne modified to serve the housing trend).
The woodwork is original – the doors
have panels, knobs and holes for vintage keys.
I follow Sam around when he explores –
he’s 3 years old and tells me what he sees.

It’s normal that he’s nervous in his bed
alone at night – of course he’s vigilant.
Examining his walls and doors instead
of sleeping, one keyhole’s an instrument
for checking on his folks’ activities.
He says he’d like a bigger keyhole, please.

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PseudoStops

Posted on July 19, 2020 by sputterpub

220px-Cerebral_lobes[1]

I seldom see the good in boundaries;
I tend to play at work and work at play.
I set a goal, approach it by degrees,
but when it’s reached it doesn’t go away.
Some friends I love and honor lack the heart
to set the time for new, and make a start.
While I initiate unlike those friends,
I seem to have an issue seeing ends.

I didn’t close affairs – I tried to change
them, but my lovers always disagreed.
I quit tobacco but did not impede
my social hits. And now it’s nothing strange
that my retirement did not proceed
in full. There’s still some worth in work I need.

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Generating

Posted on July 18, 2020 by sputterpub

crowd-silhoutette-with-flags-vector_91-6330

I feel I owe the kids apology:
we meant to change the world in ‘68.
Somehow my cohort lost its energy;
we settled in for goods instead of great.
Apparently the time was wrong for us.
We marched and rioted, kicked up our fuss,
but half a century has lapsed and still,
the jury’s out about our civic will.

My dears, your anger’s earned. Your rage should heat
the beaker of our culture even more
than we did, booming, bragging, cocky, sure
our numbers and our vigor would unseat
the emperors. But we were kids, and you’re
up now, at 38 and 44.

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Mask Etiquette

Posted on July 17, 2020 by sputterpub

Masks

I know the weakest link defines the chain,
in terms of strength (and what’s of more import
than hold if chains are judged?) The links will strain
when pull’s applied, until the poor falls short.
Just so, as we now start to socialize,
developing our distance protocols
and meeting out of doors, we organize
our separate plates and places, and it falls
to whom is the most cautious, careful guest,
to set the masking manners for the rest.

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