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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Sunday, September 30, 2018

Back in the day


9/30/17   (I was 72)

Back in the day
when I’d write late at night
I thought it would awaken insight
to the noire side its atmosphere and feeling
melancholic melodies played solo
depressive cigarettes and whiskey
to capture an uncertain mood
encountering more than doubt
maelstroms of swirling discontent
with light at a table a roof overhead
and a bed to sleep it off  
It was an imagined venture
back when I knew I’d awaken young
energized by the unreality of it all
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