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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Thursday, August 11, 2022

All our palaces disappeared with our Alices

 

from this week in August, 2012  (I was 67)

 

All our palaces disappeared with our Alices

down some rabbit hole portal

Graced the small town with charm and renown

adding the Im to mortal

Nobody lived at the castles

but we visited to feel more alive

Spines cheer a chandelier

Minds work with miners in a mural

Pilgrimage of sculpted saints stationed on the wall

Ritual danced across a polished wood floor

perfume enhanced each chamber’s décor

An aisle of incensed books we genuflected to discover

faded through that passage with our adventurous lover

 

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