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!

Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Posada Concepcion Baja


April 8, 1979  (I was 34)

    Posada Concepcion Baja
¿Quién es número uno en la palapa?
Is this my drink or is it yours?
The Mexicans here are still unmanageable
They sell camarones for the most they can get
even if you row to their boats on the point
and even to the gringos permanente
who live here five months of the year
Those gringos hate the turistas who pay top dollar
Tecate tastes foreign they say
but Carta Blanca’s almost as good as Oly
The buzzards eat gutted fish at the end of the playa
They don’t share vey well
Who’s number one under the palapa?
Those my shrimp or yours we’re pickin’ clean?
I’m only here for awhile, and I’m eatin’ while I can
I pay what they ask then ride the bus
So call me copilote or zopilote I don’t care 
                           (copilote=copilot; zopilote=buzzard)
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