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!

Sunday, March 20, 2022

The saxophone

 

March 20,2000  (I was 55)

 

The saxophone

held upright on its stand

could be a lavish pipe fitting

awaiting installation

under the sink of someone rich

Melodious golden plumbing

to be played by breath of water

in cold staccato spurts

or a warm flow of languid notes

that everyone knows

come straight from the eternal river

Posted by at
Labels: ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)