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.


Comments Welcome!

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

You and me we


November 12, 1974  (I was 29)   

You and me we
aint the kind
called a credit to the race
are we
Most don’t look
and none of ‘em hear
They don’t know and
we could care
could we
It’s not the same
the world’s changed
We stepped out and they
say we fell behind
but we didn’t did we
We been there
and we oughta know
if anyone does
We seen it heard it touched it
Hell I even tasted it
but they never been anywhere else
have they
We’ve thrown out
more’n they ever brought in
You know this better’n me
I don’t need to tell you
I’ve seen it in your eyes
the way you walk
I can hear it in your voice
A lot of them had it easy not us
We paid our dues together
and people like us
we’ll be together to the end
won’t we
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