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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Friday, February 21, 2020

1 Finger Exorcise


February 21,1974  (I was 29)

         1 Finger Exorcise
I am so comically alive
I wonder seriously how
I survive  I’m possessed
I’m teeming with inept imps
I swear everyone limps
I can’t be blamed
I haven’t been the same
It’s those imps
those maniac monkeys
who take over and there’s nothing to do
They’ve got you
Living possessed
like you’ve never been blessed
those screamers make a laugh out of you
Those devils whose revels bevel the spirit
Boredom or passion
whatever the fashion
they howl you ashen
What the hell
can’t you tell
It’s the imps
It’s gotta be the imps
you know it’s the imps
What else could it be
but the imps
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