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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Thursday, September 6, 2018

Time is out of joint


from this week in September, 1972  (I was 27)

Time is out of joint
might as well anoint my head
as even try to lift me from this bed
there is no point
Let’s you and I take a joint time out
Hope to shout hope to shout
join my groin in a groan
screw the phone  Damn
I feel like a paper doll
that can’t get folded again
I tell you it’s out of joint
or I lost the point
You can’t put a cast on time
I tried that last time
Now I just run up the hill at night
(it’s outasight) broken back or not
I don’t know if there are more snakes out during the dark
but I sure as hell hear more, still I ain’t been bit yet.

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