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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Tuesday, December 7, 2021

thank god that’s over

 

December 7, 2007  (I was 63)

 

         thank god that’s over

There is a time when so many things can kill you

the walk to the clinic for a polio shot

or the smell of no germs in the waiting room

no girl looking at you at the dance

or worse yet the wrong girl looking at you

nice enough to sit next to in science

but not one you’d name your pillow after

tripping over second base trying to take the throw

her father answering the phone when you call

not knowing what the carburetor does

finding the head on the trout you ordered for dinner

Father Mc Ornery seeing you third in line for confession

as he strides from the sacristy smelling of holy water

to his half of the booth to hear half of the truth

The math teacher who says he feels like he’s failing you

when in fact he is failing you and at night

the infinity of stars making you sick

feeling each heartbeat counting each breath

nausea and insomnia rhyming with death

There is a time when so many things can kill

but fatigue brings the dream that only one will

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