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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Monday, February 7, 2022

When only a boy in northern Minn

 

February 7, 1972  (I was 27)

 

When only a boy in northern Minn

I first climbed through the barbed wire

edged up to an iron ore pit for a look

Later at the Grand Canyon I thought

Yeah but a man didn’t dig it

Down deep my pit had groaning trucks

red lakes prehistoric cranes spiral roads

and the myth books in school had pictures

Zeus looking down on the Greeks

Later it was Dante’s hole

or like a shot out of 2001

Anyway from the beginning it impressed me

and I grew to climbing around in it

Depths of it were un-worked and abandoned

You could walk miles on the bottom

stupidly swim or skate its lakes

There were also hell holes

deep drill test wells wide as a kid

It made you feel the world was hollow

to lay at the lip of one and drop rocks down

They clonged donged echo prolonged

down until you could hear them no more

diminished sound of a small gong

x? When I was fourteen I saw Time Machine

x? Underground creatures came out of hell holes …both deleted in post

When mine cops came you’d have to run

dodging the unmarked holes a sweet terror

compared now to the acrid pitfalls of surface life

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