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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Monday, October 11, 2021

The fabric shreds it does not tatter

 

October 11, 2018  (I was 73)

 

The fabric shreds it does not tatter

like a wind torn banner not split

not pierced or torn by foreign force

not chafed nor worn from use

but by each who pulled a loose thread

one end to the other detached at length

The start of a fringe

a sort of decorative disintegration

stripping the weft from the warp

relieving the weave that is the cloth

The one that’s lost held the next in place

The progression of thoughts once a grand idea

removed from mind one line at a time

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