ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 5

untitled
some words last longer...


THEORETICAL
just read the words...


AN ACCOUNT
it wasn't as if any...


THE NIGHT OF THE BIG STORM
the neighbor boy with candles...


untitled
day that hesitates...


9/4/94
morning the flowers...


LUCK
of birds to have wings...


MEMORY
noon the infinite...


9/1/94
eulogy strains those heads...


HOW TO
ceremonies must be long...


A MAN OF WAR
rises through the air...


TALE
midnight pours out his heart...


TITLE NO TITLE
if your hand...


I'LL TRY AGAIN
it chases me...


24 HOURS
night as a cistern...


NOTICING
how to be literal as a last gasp...


LOOKOUT
looking out from a window in the treetops...


RETURN
in someone's house or in a barn...


MY WALK
being secret and smart...


ONGOING
that rush rush...


MONEY WORRIES
dreaming of an owl...


MABLE MCKIBBEN RENSBERGER
grandmother of underground places...


untitled
memory bled...


PAGE TORN FROM THE BOOK OF MEMORY
where it is flat the wind...


APOSTROHE
moon bone bright I...


untitled
for luck a fire...


EXAMPLES
slipped on the carpet at the turn of the stairs...


GIVE ME JUST A MINUTE
The room blurs. I can't think....


TELLING ABOUT
argument with my shadow...


DOCTORS MISUNDERSTAND
blue circles approaching my eyes...


HERE'S AN IDEA
what about...


COLDER WIND
everything is...


BEING TOLD GOODBYE
I am in the limited area...


MY LETTERS
continuator of hieroglyphs...


HELP ME
this poetry has grown too heavy...


RETURN THE FAVOR
doc buzzard in your cart...


SURVEYOR'S DREAM
to keep all the directions...


SEEN FROM A DISTANCE
the poems he has forgotten...


TRAVEL
atlas of devastation...


WE SING
day...


AS I SLEEP
I am blind stumbling...


PRACTICE WITH MY EYES
a hero of waiting...


WORDS I CANNOT UNDERSTAND
bad traffic on the way to...


CHANGE IN THE WEATHER
the wailing stops...


WHAT WILL I WRITE ON THE LAST PAGE
blank paper stares at me...

Listen!


The work defines itself, pulls itself forward, it is nothing like
looking at the work afterward or imagining it beforehand, it is
done with effort, you feel sore afterward, your mind is involved,
it looks on, it goes into the work and comes back out again to
itself, it rests and something else does the work, the work exists
of itself, it pulls together the place of the work with the doer,
it is neither the place nor the doer, it has left the doer, the
doer is empty of work, the signs of work are there but not the work,
the work is resting in what has been done, it rests but is still
work, the work has no end, it travels from doer to doer, each of
them empty, none exhausted, the spine is involved, hands, brain,
legs, eye, the parts involved are not the work but only the means,
the work smells like blood, it has motion, it lives, it is wanted
dead or alive, no one has seen the end of work, it follows imagina-
tion, it leads imagination, the work is not represented by what it
does, it seeks out the doer, the doer sweats, his back will not
hold up, his mind is not large enough, he dies and is replaced,
that will settle him, let him live for that or stake his reputation
on it, he is deserted, he is dust, he lies under the work, he is
silent, the work and the doer:  neither one is sacred, neither one
stays the same.