ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 10

FRESH START
the author of many leaves...

I ASK YOU
what I am about to do and what...

untitled
The work defines itself, pulls itself...

LARRY MILLER
when you call back there to order the flowers...

ADDENDUM TO LARRY MILLER
punched him in the stomach once...

MY FORTY-NINTH BIRTHDAY
the balance point between years...

THE DROUGHT
if the drought means anything we haven't been told...

I SPEND
hours alone with my books...

SO FAR AS I CAN
the trees at night stretch out...

ANGEL MOUND
stone spades hammers awls...

untitled
sleep drunk from a glass of sleep...

EAST
East, innocence, enormous, a blush over half the sky. Now that...

WHAT IS FUCKED UP ABOUT THIS
is a question that can be answered...

CAN'T STOP TALKING
sat so still you noticed...

SETTLEMENT
1....

PAUSE ON THE ROAD IN CUMBERLAND GAP TENNESSEE
It was speed, the technology of rapidity, that made the nation pos-...

ON THE STAIRS IN THE DARK
it is late to be starting again...

THREE SLEEPS
a sleep that wanders...

WINTER PRAISES
of abandoned nests...

untitled
what will always be true?...

KEEPING AT IT
I recite the alphabet in the traditional way...

TALKING TO THE STONES
I am living before you dissolve...

NOT LAMENTING
a lament I am forbidden to speak...

A:
I think it's that I always had the feeling that what is really true,...

HAVE COME HERE
even when I'm late...

THE DAY AFTER THE DAY AFTER
a place in the paperwork...

7/25/00
beetles crushed between my fingers...

MY CURRENT MOOD
certain observations have broken their heads...

STILL
making no effort if I can...

GOLDFINCH ON A WIRE
black line in his feet...

SUMMER PRAISES
the ground-filling rain...

LISTENING TO
the music that keeps me up late...

THE STONE BOAT
that sled of thick oak planks...

DISAPPOINTMENT
under the shade of the words I wrote...

AUGUST
the fields with their fine catch...

AT THE ENCORE CAFE
with your roast potatoes...

WANDERING POEM
on the road...

MY VACANCY
the old hours come back...

untitled
I protest...

8/3/01
when I go inside...

ONE MOTION
swifts of the city come and go...

THE YEAR OF MY ABSENCE
a number of stones under my feet...

REFUSAL
I am awake now...

11/26/01
in the dark before dawn the stars...

WINTER GENESIS I
mornings on this stone seat...

WINTER GENESIS II
under cold tree branches stacked stones outline...



EAST


East, innocence, enormous, a blush over half the sky.  Now that
we know the dryness of Death, does our knowledge have anything
left over for us?  Like a nectarine hidden in the tangled sha-
dows at the bottom of a ridge where everyone told us we would
come, dust-mouthed and anxious.  Death sits down to the table
with Fun, eating for those of us who wish to starve.  Shadows in
my head cool my thoughts down to their remnants, a useful char-
coal.  I am happy to serve Death dessert and to paint his toe-
nails afterwards. A heavy truck flies by me on the highway, its
rear end says East but it is headed the other way, a mystery, I
don't know the answer.  I wish my delirium had trousers it could
wear to go out in public without provoking comment, I wish the
police would add sheet to sheet till the paper evidence covered
it with discretion.  My bones are flutes all playing at once, my
record shows that I keep acting the way I've been acting without
raising dust.  Listen, the Devil is sad that his bids have fallen
so low and still no takers--they all say they can get it cheaper
on the Internet, and there he is standing out by the highway,
saying OK then, how about some lemonade? But no one believes in
it anymore.  The stars cough as they whirl, and I hold my breath
awhile then give it to the East so the sun can be blown a little
higher.  If it was up to me and my weak needs, I would stumble,
but Death is my companion, and he and his distant cousin Fun hold
me up to save me from falling to the Devil, who never gives up--
that's why they call him stupid and won't pick up the phone when
he calls.


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