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!

Monday, December 28, 2020

Gee Theodore Roethke

 

December 28, 2019 I was 75

 

Gee Theodore Roethke

I wish I coulda met thee

Even if just my Prof

probably woulda been enough

 

I'd laugh at your wit and your dance

give a shit if given half a chance

light side or dark side outsider inside

I'd listen to your stuff and know when's enough

                  ________

 

I was waltzing through Birnam Wood

and the trees waltzed with me

Odd I thought it was some game

as we danced our way to Dunsinane

 

Someone murmured Remember the heath

the storm the dark the chanting crones

We step at a pace until tomorrow

and tomorrow sounds a fury of sorrow   

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