I don’t write in a journal everyday, but I have accumulated many entries over the past 50+ years beginning in 1966. Some items evolved into longer works. Among the leftovers little pieces survived. I thought a collection of these with a piece culled from the same date in a past year would make an interesting yearbook. The consistencies and inconsistencies of mind, skipping back and forth across time, provide varied perspectives. It is difficult to remember the context of the past we’ve lived; we also make suppositions about times that predate ourselves.

The few alterations from original drafts were to improve clarity. The worst of my work is not included. There remains enough mediocrity and immaturity to make me feel humble and you feel smart. There are also moments of accidental insight and incidental humor.

Author Stephen Crane referred to his little pieces as pills…apparently they were small and somewhat hard to swallow, but good for you.


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Monday, November 7, 2016

I am waiting to use my own house


from this week in November, 2012  (I was 67)

I am waiting to use my own house
in a manner to which I am accustomed
There is little of it I actually own
but I am satisfied with a room or two
with kitchen privileges  For this I perform
menial tasks dishes laundry shopping and such
A life that leaves room for reflection
when the cleaning lady makes her visit
So now as I sit in my car at the park
I watch another world in my rear view mirror
A young mother pushes young daughter
on a swing while another pulls young son
out of the dirt and into a car
Moms shove and tug themselves out of a life
from which they have not yet fully grown
realizing now they cannot look back
while watching them I do
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