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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Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Eng. 225 3cr.


June 6, 1968  (I was 23)

Eng. 225  3cr.
The too young professor of English
PhD Stanford
studied cynicism in tweed
now professes Shakespeare polysyllabically
and organically of course
abhors the theatre
and women educators
of both sexes
fluctuates between
Tillyard and G.W. Knight
Flying Dutchman and Newports
and discusses The Winter’s Tale
the night of Bobby Kennedy’s death.
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