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!

Thursday, November 11, 2021

I hain’t got the blues; I got to choose

 

November 11, 2014  (I was 69)         

 

I hain’t got the blues; I got to choose

I did what I’s supposed, went undiagnosed

I read the news and formulated views

I opened the door but didn’t rob the store

paid my dues but never lit the fuse

Whole family regressed, I got depressed

I hain’t got the blues, said I got to choose

Didn’t see eye to eye, didn’t dance cheek to cheek

I’s always the guy waitin’ til next week

always saw the muse in pastel hues

through a fog dissolve   

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