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!

Friday, March 16, 2018

In Yosemite


from this week in 2013  (I was 68)

In Yosemite
when you see the tallest pines
swaying in the serious wind
and think their shrill whistle to be
the final call of their impending fall
do not fear  It is no Siren sound
but the exclamatory squeal of limbs
exploring the boundaries for which they are built
Eye instead the rooted ground
from which emerges the sturdy trunk
It is there you want to perceive a stillness
as stationary and steadfast answer
to querulous notions blowing above
Posted by at
Labels: , ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)