ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 20

untitled
you know who...


THE GREAT WORKS
Reading one of the Great Works that you find annoying, you ...


SILENCE/WORLD
the silence is never a silence...


FRIGHTENED BY MY BOOKS AGAIN
they have in them many words to read...


12/13/12
the squrrels' efforts...


THIS LIFE
less led than lost...


FIRST SNOW
one might imagine Adam...


12/26/12
the wind moves along...


NOTES TO BEGIN WITH
noon on new year's day...


AFTERTHOUGHT
silence...


UNDERSTANDING EACH OTHER
the word for food...


STILLED FOREVER
the body of a mouse...


A CYCLOPS EXPLAINS TO A STRANGER POLYPHEMUS' HOWLS
every so often one of us here goes crazy ...


CONTINUATION
even zero has a hard time with nothing...


REGISTERED
from some abandoned clock comes...


DRIVER
are you still driving...


ABOUT THE FAMOUS COUNTRY
the leaves cover it...


NOT YET
not yet ready to write you...


A THOUGHT
the alley floor is cracked...


2/23/13
last weeks of winter...


REPETITION
those who in their agony of loss...


WAYS HE TRAVELS
the hastening traveler panting along the ways...


PERHAPS POSSIBLE
watch ...


STORM FORECAST
moss light under trees...


REPITITION II
die of grief make another grief...


ONLY AT NIGHT
only at night can I really see...


I KNOW WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE
the trembling you see...


REPITITION III
make another grief...


THE READER
the pages I turn sketch...


WONDERFUL
at the doctor's office...


LANDSCAPE WITH TWO MEN
in dark clothes walking over the year's...


REPETITION IV
...


4/29/13
barely light...


EVEN SO
a picture of least importance...


SAYING MORE
cold air on my skin as it leaves me alert pleases...


NEWS
the shamed man...


5/26/13
a penny drops on the floor...


IT RIDDLES
it isn't memory...


STORY
limbs of the tree gone astray...


JUST TO BE CLEAR
nothing wants to know...


SEEING
rain-centered region...


COMPARE AND CONTRAST
there is never just one crow...


I STILL ACHE
the little things said...


THE DIFFERENCE
an off-white sky...


PLAYING AGAIN
a store of chords held in the fingers laid...


THE TOWN
the town with its mildly hilly north side...


TO YOU
if it often seems...


IN TIME
to arrive in time with some of what you've packed...


HIS INTENTION
He left, lying where I would be sure to see it, a little written...


1937
the Ohio in flood...


STONE SYMPATHY
this large rock in the abandoned field...


ANOTHER KIND OF WIND I REMEMBER
the whirlwinds that used to come...


DREAMS
That was childhood, when I believed anyone could fly if they ...


WHAT THEY BUILD AND WHERE
they build their cities on the plain...


A PARTICULAR HEAVEN
after the end...


BORDERLANDS
In some of the places where boundaries meet there can be a ...


WHAT IT KNOWS
an invisible warning...


WHAT IF YOU WERE THAT MAN IN THE MIRROR?
no thoughts or feelings within you...


IRONY WATER
the irony water I drank in youth...


MY LIFE DOES THE MATH
my life poorer by a day...

Listen!


VISITING T.C. STEELE'S HOUSE IN THE RAIN


I.

the trees have had time
to approach the painter's house
and grow large
they have taken away his view
but so has death
and death was never cut down
in his time or ours

his wife's gardens have been copied
by the employees of the state
and under this dull sky
they make earth brighter than heaven

on a rock in one of them
I saw a garter snake looking at me
and wishing I would go
so the frogs would come out


II.

the studio sits just off the peak of the hill
looking like a barn under its hip roof

they let the varnish on the paintings dull
but keep the dust off his brushes

gift shop in the back his work on the walls
examples of the two hands he worked with

a smooth hand for flattering sitters
a rough hand for pleasing himself

one hand plus the other equalled happiness
one made a living (guess which)

one showed the long vistas he lived among
and nearer by the scrubbiness and brilliance

living out in the country brings home to you
his chickens posed for him under the trees

morning light slant on the pecked-bare dirt
also the oak still there a hundred years later

the old woman my guide asks how I make my living
by listening to troubles I say

thinking of my own just now thank god not great
leaving I drop five dollars in the donation box

and put up the hood on my raincoat so
I am equal to the rain ready to go for a walk


III.

from the cabin below the house
I follow the trail of silences
whose name is true
the streams it crosses
make a little noise
but between one and the other
a different silence each time

up the hill again panting
stopping for breath I see
a doe grazing on the grass
covering the family graves
she runs from smelling me