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!

Saturday, July 14, 2018

Tom Taken


July 14, 1971  (I was 26)

            Tom Taken
Cross-legged on the porch at dusk
surrounded by trees and even the sky is green
Just now got the point of a blunt joint
A jay informs me and leaves
air so soft I don’t know whether it’s wind
or trailing breath of an extended limb
Mosquitoes shoot up on my arm and ankle
Randomly I kill them or let them bite and fly stoned
Kaleidoscope of leaves and vestigial branches
Calliope of dogs music and laughter in the canyon
Meditative melt from shadow play to star show
I’m perplexed and I just don’t know
how the rest of us just go on with the flow
after you’ve gone  And all of us still
taking you along
Posted by at
Labels: ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)