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, June 19, 2017

The sun was shining behind me in the morning.


June 19, 2005  (I was 60)

The sun was shining behind me in the morning.
I drove the wagon down the dim low spot in the road.
What rains had been were not here now.
The descent was not steep, the shade was cool,
the mud not deep, I tracked us steadily through.
The sun promised itself on the slope ahead,
warmed our backs; sweat beaded our hair.
Forward the bright inclination soon glared in our eyes.
The wheels threw dirt then clay; the hillcrest lay in shadow.
We got stuck in my ignorance; the sun is setting.
The path behind is golden, our destination dark.
It’s a cool despondent night of frustration and fear.
With cold resignation we gather wood for fire,
eat canned food with plenty to drink.
The stars perforate our thoughts with light,
recognition of our comparative good fortune and a plan
to push the wagon to higher ground at dawn.
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