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, December 29, 2022

a convergin’

 

from this week of December, 2008  (I was 64)

 

         a convergin’

 

it was just a coupla nights ago

the rhythmic pluck of an ol banjo

comin outta the raydeeo

matched the scratch on the distant track

motion and notion ‘prochin nickedynack

banjo sang train sang and I sang back

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