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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Saturday, April 17, 2021

Evening Stroll

 

April 17, 2009  (I was 64)

 

         Evening Stroll

I walk a few paces behind

Your voice drifts back

Mine never catches up

Once we walked abreast

Now the path doesn’t seem so wide

the sound of our footfalls not in sync

I am unaware of your breath

as you are of mine

Our shadows still dance together

a tall then small tango

between the intermittent street lights

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