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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Sunday, January 22, 2017

Drinking Alone in the Woods


from this week in January, 1975  (I was 30)

Drinking Alone in the Woods
Here’s cheers to the continual rebirth of wonder
assuming a position of dance
with the trees in the woods
Hurray for un-shattered naiveté
who pays the daily price of innocence
with every amazingly fragrant step
Willingly suspended disbelief flees
Moss illuminates gray rock
Every bird a messenger every song
an intelligible vibrancy of hermetic synapse
Celebrate the isolated ego erupting from the throat
Pitch the burning stone down the abandoned well
There is no one here to disbelieve
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