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, April 14, 2021

Awake in a muddled morass of fog thought

 

April 14, 2014  (I was 69)

 

Awake in a muddled morass of fog thought

want to paper it all in precious language

and finding logically more fog than thought

I turn instead to Heather McHugh who

(as Seuss would know) can orderly spew

fulminate might be her word

or one confetto used to pepper the absurd

She’s one of those writers who make it okay

that our skill is still one lifetime away

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