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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Monday, October 28, 2019

without wind its scent emanates


October 28, 2002  (I was 57)

without wind its scent emanates
unseen it enters the light
soundlessly it vibrates existence
lacking surface or texture it expands
like the taste of salt
under the tongue and into the blood
it is the minimalism that becomes one
a restrictive essence not the other
the this of a succession of nows
the definition of the word
and the consciousness of self
the fruition the expression the realization
of the so much more beyond
the doubt of insignificance
knowing both past and future are then
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