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, July 5, 2021

At Magic Sands eight-foot waves pour ashore

 

July 5, 1993  (I was 48)

 

At Magic Sands eight-foot waves pour ashore 

dump dumb boogie boarders all over the beach

Some get out some get good

most just tumble in the soup

mahus from El Segundo

First wave I try I almost die

battered face first on unforgiving bottom

tumbling hard on twisting neck

reverberating hours later

After shower food and sun gone down

moana still plays with my equilibrium

Sand rattles my ears salt seasons my throat

and it will be years before I try to get it out

One recurring message rushes through my blood

This is the way haole necks get broke

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