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, December 23, 2019

Twas the night before the day that came after


from this week in 2014  (I was 70) 

Twas the night before the day that came after
There was the laughter preceding the disaster
The time when everything seemed to rhyme
We drank our money the evening light and funny
The morning saw the grime and the committed crime
The night before we filled the dance floor
We rolled and we rocked and we sweet talked
In the icy dark we walked each other home
It was two below through new fallen snow
Then we awoke to find it broken
Now hand in hand we ring the toppled dome
Nothing more need be spoken
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