BLUEPEPPER

Cap Anson Growing up in the town my dad founded, we kids tormented the so-called friendly Indians Later, I didn't want to...

Storm a’ Comin’ There’s a blanket of black wool that’s been pulled over the city (over this little nameless hole in the prai...

Arriving Home the man comes up the hill dragging miles and his shadow behind him he has Ireland in his suitcase ruined ...

The I Know a Dead Mountaineer Society, Concedes The cherry wood honour roll burns air gasping for lettering a toast for scaler...

First Love The new shadows arrive like a schoolyard full of children  jostling, exuberant  to blanket the new grass so tha...

Some Small Night Music  Walking the evening and the street, you will glimpse odd, sudden edges of life’s back-parlour narrati...

Out at Me You take me out at high noon to the flat pools of Moffat beach where rocks yawn like warm honeycombs or wasp’s n...

Repairing the World Like in a riot, police were shooting rubber bullets. I was rushed by strangers to the hospital....

In spite of horror movies I pick up the man from Novie’s bar on the other side of town So drunk he put in the wrong address―...

closed an hour ago and there’s still 6 pallets of stock left to do before we’re allowed to go home.  I step outside for a sm...

Passing Through Semmering I finally see difference, The landscape art of olde From Habsburg fief to Habsburg land Huge white...

People Tell Me Things People tell me things I listen, I see and remember Not lost to me— A casual thought, a memory, a mood...

careful   as soon as my mouth opened i knew it wouldn’t end up pretty like a slow crash about to happen a dream with no brak...

Bluepepper is happy to announce the release of the latest short story collection by long term contributor and loyal supporter, the Cali...

Synergist All day I’ve listened to the song of a single cardinal ripple stillness just outside my office window.   An ope...

As for Serendipity… In the grand scheme of things despite whatever notions we cling to there is no grand scheme of things: ...

The Rival With The Bette Davis Eyes She’s in love. He stays over. She tells me she doesn’t have any friends, but she has Domin...

Glimpse The glimpse, the blink, an echo so slow, so quick, so long to last, to cease then go from one who could belong. To...

To My Wife  With A   Copy of My Poems (A cover of Oscar Wilde) I can write no stately proem As a prelude to my lay; ...

Dials I try to switch off cancer for the day, turn the dial from recurrence to remission admit one to a movie theatre in my ...