I’ve called it munge,
the Daily Munge,
for two decades,
a term I pilfered
from an article
about archeology
and layers of detritus
compressed, transformed
over time, long-long time.
But the article vanished.
Or maybe my memory
invented it for want
of an apt metaphor.
Munge. Unverified.
And while it’s served
me well enough over the
handwriting, typing, and
dictating days since, I have
begun to wonder if now’s the
right and appropriate time to
adopt a new and even more apt
metaphor: the Daily Compost.

(Source: “Daily Compost”, 40×41: Midlife Crisis Postponed)