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 31, 2019

Only the ghosts of pumpkins past


October 31, 2012  (I was 67)

Only the ghosts of pumpkins past
embellish the old house now
Edgar Allan Crow at my window
beckons me to notice no water in the fountain
Spirits of a spook house in the garage
no longer leave their cardboard boxes
The thought of them residing there
in the dark of those casual crypts
unreleased for yet another year
pent up agonies of faceless masks
conjures a colder hollow fear
than those lit up hallowed eves ago
at my chamber door to ask for candy
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