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, June 26, 2022

loose ends

 

from this week in June, 1972 (I was 27)

 

loose ends

unfinished work

what happened to the maps

 

maybe they got left on the road

what the hell

all roads go somewhere

don’t they

 

show me your badge

say where and how for now

build the first cupboard in the chaos

where do you want the cheese

 

Is this a landscape or a portrait

open another pack of cigarettes

I never could strike a match on my ass

 

the fog is thicker than London

I’m tired of trying to cut it

where’s the wind

 

where are you

I’ve been out of touch so long

 

I look in the mirror

I step on the scale

I assume my pulse

I don’t know how Karloff does it night after night

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