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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Tuesday, April 3, 2018

The first seed of sadness was planted shallow


From this week in 2014  (I was 69) 

The first seed of sadness was planted shallow
though the roots of a mother’s lie run deep
Its first flowers are delicate and white
They cool the child’s brow before sleep
We are in his hands it will be all right
So the secret of the Garden lies fallow

Dread stalk is a crooked stick
The bent of truth excretes a burl
Stout strength supports a wooden heart
Legend has it hides a pearl
deep within its hardened part
the mother’s milk fed soul of the heretic
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