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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Saturday, November 3, 2018

Cleanhead walks alone


November 3, 1974  (I was 29)

Cleanhead walks alone
he cannot be intimidated
he has no guilt

Cleanhead cleans the air he breathes
He inhales questions
His exhalations are answers

Cleanhead does not speak
his voice is an instrument
his sound clears the senses

Cleanhead has arrow vision
void of ego or implication
his gaze is telepathic
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