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, January 3, 2018

How’d they know in that song


January 3, 2011  (I was 66) 

How’d they know in that song
about the girl next door
When did they feel her satin hair
and see the sunshine in her eyes

How’d they know how afraid I was
to speak when she was near
how thrilled to be included
in the panorama of her smile

I thought only I imagined the honey
to be kissed from her lips in the moonlight
How can that taste be in the tone of his voice
singing with a sweetness only she can share

How could they feel my warm heart
drop into the dark and cold
How in the song did they see me
so quietly so suddenly so old
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