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!

Monday, January 3, 2022

How’d they know in that song

 

January 3, 2011  (I was 66) 

 

How’d they know in that song

about the girl next door

When did they feel her satin hair

and see the sunshine in her eyes

 

How’d they know how afraid I was

to speak when she was near

how thrilled to be included

in the panorama of her smile

 

I thought only I imagined the honey

to be kissed from her lips in the moonlight

How can that taste be in the tone of his voice

singing with a sweetness only she can share

 

How could they feel my warm heart

drop into the dark and cold

How in the song did they see me

so quietly so suddenly so old

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