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!

Friday, November 12, 2021

You and me we

 

November 12, 1974  (I was 29)   

 

You and me we

aint the kind

called a credit to the race

are we

Most don’t look

and none of ‘em hear

They don’t know and

we could care

could we

It’s not the same

the world’s changed

We stepped out and they

say we fell behind

but we didn’t did we

We been there

and we oughta know

if anyone does

We seen it heard it touched it

Hell I even tasted it

but they never been anywhere else

have they

We’ve thrown out

more’n they ever brought in

You know this better’n me

I don’t need to tell you

I’ve seen it in your eyes

the way you walk

I can hear it in your voice

A lot of them had it easy not us

We paid our dues together

and people like us

we’ll be together to the end

won’t we

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