ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

sequence #
1 2 3 4 5
6 7 8 9 10
11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20

  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 4

ABOUT TO SIT DOWN
Stepping out the back door...

KISS HIS EAR
Brown corn bends as...

STALLING OUT
Just by getting enough distance...

PAGE ZERO
my mind's blank wall...

PARTING
words just off...

CRICKETS HESITATE
the night...

FROM AND TO
my first eternity...

IN THIS LITTLE POEM OR WORLD
I mislaid my travel plans the map...

FIELD GUIDE
indigo bunting no words...

untitled
I knew...

I STAY UP LATE
studying to live...

POEM OF EXPOSURE
the tender outcry...

untitled
underground I'll turn to you...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM TATE
I consider it a citizen's duty...

STANDING STILL IN
november...

HOW I TRAPPED THE MURDERER
I left out the part...

PROVERB
he who sleeps a false sleep...

A SUNDAY NIGHT SERMON FOR DAVID BAKER
The first step is to listen,...

I AM PART BUZZARD
my grandmother was a buzzard...

DEAR FUCKHEADS
my head hurts...

TILL IT THAWS
1....

RESOLUTION
I am so glad...

EVENING POEM
in the cellar...

DISTURBANCE
the world is alive...

FLIGHT
the gamblers...

VISIT
Buying toys, the one remaining copy...

STORM
in trouble again...

JUST AFTER DAWN
We sat among the cattle and he asked me ...

INTERPRETATION
Hour begets hour, dream begets dream,...

THE BUZZARD SPEAKS
I am proud...

INTERRUPTION
not knowing what to say...

JOSEPH'S POEM
if you wish to own a fear...

DIS-ORDER
of course...

BLUE MILLION
in the house dark...

untitled
blank pages spit their silence...

BROKEN POEM
life goes through...

AUTOBIOGRAPHY VOL. II
the day before my birth...

MARENGO
the pressure of seasons...

TODAY
awoke in the forest...

IMPERFECT POEM

I have nothing to say to you now
and nowhere to go to say it
I say nothing to you in my living room
and it's not right so I stand on the porch
and say nothing but the cows are there
listening so it doesn't seem like nothing
so I drive to town and walk down Kirkwood
saying nothing and it all feels wrong and
I'm out of place out of any place to walk
or stand or sit or lie down in peace
and it's like a death or the loss
of some essential organ without which
I don't see or hear and I can't feel my legs
and therefore I don't believe in the ground
which leaves me floating legless headless
bodiless anywhere everywhere this
must be what it's like to exist
in a world of no objects only ideas
that cannot be altered
the Platonic Heaven
goddamn you Plato you know
nothing about what it takes to be
in my life and be happy it takes
real flawed objects and people who can
be taken to represent nothing higher
or better or more perfect than themselves