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, November 25, 2020

It all seemed so real at the time

 

from this week in November, 1972  (I was 28)

 

It all seemed so real at the time

and the reality froze the moments

accessible cold and clear and I burn

a sacrifice of this moment

to lie about a little of it

One ember upon the hearth is a lie

The hearth keeper won’t let it burn down the house

He snuffs it

I may not be able to get at it

It’s tricky telling a lie so as to reveal the truth

I admire people who can use the truth to lie

What could I having thus spoken say to follow it

 

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