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!

Sunday, November 22, 2020

A half century is a blink of an eye

 

from this week in November, 2017  (I was 73)

 

A half century is a blink of an eye

same old catcher in the same old rye

shots still fired in downtown Dallas

same old hatred same old malice

Took a road less traveled and forsaken

wish it had been the one not taken

the one called Hope to a land called Promised

to lay by still waters where breezes are warmest

but we rode the bullets down the cross-haired sight

to end somewhere else than we thought we might

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