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.


Comments Welcome!

Saturday, June 24, 2017

Ordeal number one


June 24,  1973  (I was 28)

Ordeal number one
life is a terminal disease you say
who cares says I
I am tired of your crying
The woman you left says Who the fuck cares
just quit coming back
I’ve got this life to live while you die
And you say Oh if someone only loved me
Oh if someone only chose me
Oh I should have been a priest
So go sit in a confessional
and turn brown
No one will see or smell the beer
behind those heavy curtains
Maybe you can find it in your heart
or in your religion
to forgive us all
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