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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Wednesday, April 29, 2020

That time


April 29, 1974  (I was 29)

That time
the train stopped at this unfamiliar station
(whose name we have already forgotten)
we stepped onto the platform
Through the transitory depot
we entered the stationary world again
But by this time we understood the subtleties of travel
We knew the lies of relativity
so we laughed at vehicle trees
In fact that thought remains most vividly
connected to our arrival-
vehicle trees

We are settled now into summer
What was apprehension is confidence
We are secure and we cannot be intimidated
There are no nightmares there is no darkness
The neighbors are polite they admire our garden
We’re giving all our money to the poor
The weather is amorous and the beach is secluded
We wonder now why it took us this long
Though the oaks have slowed
they remain reminders of our
recent travels
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