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, November 17, 2022

Everyday that man wandered in the woods

 

from this week in November, 1971  (I was 27)

 

Everyday that man wandered in the woods

and he watched all that happened there

but especially the leaves which fell in time

and broke brown upon the ground

He did not know what to think of this

Some leaves drifted others dove

That man watched while seated on a rock

Reasons are alien to my comprehension

he said to himself as he watched the fall

And each day that man wandered from the woods

with bare limbs and leaves left still behind

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