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, February 17, 2022

Innocence in a sense

 

February 17, 2021  (I was 76)

 

Innocence in a sense

Impossible unaffectedness

A rose looks like a flower

that is conscious of being looked at

What other can be expected

when we say a rose has arisen

It is enough to make a pale rose blush

The scent of a rose is an ascent

A question is posed

answered in assent

that a rose is

what Gertrude said

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