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, October 10, 2019

I can’t see far ahead from here


from this week in October, 2012  (I was 71)

I can’t see far ahead from here
I don’t care what the seer once said
I still offer the dead a beer
There’s nothing I should fear or dread

From something in the past I’m blessed
knew when I headed west I’d last
Those before went too fast I guessed
Lives I’m sure they addressed half-assed.
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