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!

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

A stone lies in a tight


October 4, 1969  (I was 24)

A stone lies in a tight
ghetto of daisies
Retained like frozen light
the thought begs reprieve
and prays to mother night

On all the walls of the world
mother allow your flag unfurled
grant us the gift of your grace
and keep our souls in place

The flower scatters its seed
and dies to nourish it
The thawed parishioner recites
another round of beads
spirals to mother night

On all in the walls of the world
mother allow your flag unfurled
grant us the gift of your grace
and keep our souls in place
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