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, October 13, 2021

Measuring Distance

 

October 13, 1977  (I was 32)

 

         Measuring Distance

Standing on one ridge

looking across the canyon to the next,

distance is deceptive.

The line of sight is direct.

The turkey vultures glide it in no time.

The mind flies as easily across

and does not understand the resistance of the body;

does not understand flight as unified commitment.

No command is given to fly.

And the trek down the mountain across the creek

and up the mountain

is the correct way to measure geography,

pacing the actual terrain,

making observations beyond geometry.

It’s a practice in the correct sense of place,

and perfect really, if you can’t fly.

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