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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Wednesday, March 16, 2022

in Yosemite

 

from this week in 2013  (I was 68)

 

in Yosemite

when you see the tallest pines

swaying in the serious wind

and think their shrill whistle to be

the final call of their impending fall

do not fear  It is no Siren sound

but the exclamatory squeal of limbs

exploring the boundaries for which they are built

Eye instead the rooted ground

from which emerges the sturdy trunk

It is there you want to perceive a stillness

as stationary and steadfast answer

to querulous notions blowing above

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