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, May 20, 2020

We are given to play with the light of day


May 20, 2019  (I was 74)

We are given to play with the light of day
given to fright at the dark of night
taken to mark the sound of the lark
bound by the pound of waves on rock
halted under the echoes from caves that talk
ponder what is meant in the lavender scent
chill in the taste of a scavenger for waste
We thrill at the touch of velvet on skin
Such is the sense of enchantment we’re in
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