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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Friday, January 22, 2021

Drinking Alone in the Woods

 

from this week in January, 1975  (I was 30)

 

Drinking Alone in the Woods

Here’s cheers to the continual rebirth of wonder

assuming a position of dance

with the trees in the woods

Hurray for un-shattered naiveté

who pays the daily price of innocence

with every amazingly fragrant step

Willingly suspended disbelief flees

Moss illuminates gray rock

Every bird a messenger every song

an intelligible vibrancy of hermetic synapse

Celebrate the isolated ego erupting from the throat

Pitch the burning stone down the abandoned well

There is no one here to disbelieve

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