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, April 3, 2022

The first seed of sadness was planted shallow

 

From this week in 2014  (I was 69) 

 

The first seed of sadness was planted shallow

though the roots of a mother’s lie run deep

Its first flowers are delicate and white

They cool the child’s brow before sleep

We are in his hands it will be all right

So the secret of the Garden lies fallow

 

Dread stalk is a crooked stick

The bent of truth excretes a burl

Stout strength supports a wooden heart

Legend has it hides a pearl

deep within its hardened part

the mother’s milk fed soul of the heretic

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