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: 8

REVEALED BY SPLITTING
my face is of oak...

12/14/96
a voice saying...

MAKING SENSE ON A SNOWY MORNING
my woods fill up with snow...

POINT AT WHICH
the speaking of the heart...

MY HUNGER
I have turned my stones...

MIDNIGHT
midnight your moonlight...

12/23/96
after the singing...

untitled
walk out Eric...

EGYPTIAN
the words which took...

ING
lean sleep...

IN MEMORIAM F.B.
his house of lead...

HOW TO GET THERE
go till the snow falls...

PLAN:
throw four stones...

MY STRUGGLE WITH MY WEIGHT
Mornings around here there is so much fog in the trees...

1/2/97
strange life with...

DARING ABSENCE
the seeing blind man...

FACE THE NATION
1. the fine line in my tranquility...

FOUR BY FOUR
objects I have turned...

untitled
in the waste of sky...

GOOD AND ILL FORTUNE
go through me...

1/17/97
the snow blows the road is battered...

CRITICISM OF SHOVELLING
my stubborn back keeps working...

POET'S DILEMMA
words running up and down...

REQUIREMENT
am I empty yet...

I WROTE THIS WHILE THINKING ABOUT WRITING IT (TITLE LAST)
warm air makes the snow soften...

POEM AS IT HAPPENS
rain gets to fill the spaces used...

EYES AND EARS
eyes very involved in silence...

PROSE POEM ON THE BAKERS (NO COMMAS)
I always see the bakers when I am in a hurry walking past the door...

HELP MIDWINTER
no work snow flies like doves...

THEFT OF LINES FROM THE GNOSTICS
alone with my name...

IF JORDAN FLOODS
season of rising...

COMET AND SAINTS
now don't for-...

THE ARGUMENT
A burning house invites the comet in for a meal. The conver-...

FOOL'S DAY
it was my voice...

SIXTEEN LINES
reading a life...

OUT OF RESPECT
Albert Ayler's jukebox...

AGAIN
what the river of sound delivers...

ASHLAND
all I have buried...

4/27/97
the light rain...

untitled
you want me to stay...

I HEAR
your voice...

THE CLASSIC OF STONE
I had some...

JUST WAIT
too hot to eat the late hours...

NEO WHAT
just got through...

7/6/97
the dusk cool breeze...

KNOWN BY WHAT
deceived by everything...

STOLEN
a voice speaks...

WELCOME TRASH HAULERS
our miles of caves where...

TOO HOT
no rain to satisfy...

THEFT OF LINES FROM THE GNOSTICS AND KAUFMAN
one of rock, one of slime,...

COME ON
in your hand...

GUIDE FROM THE PERPLEXED
this is to let you know...

PRAYER THAT FELL THROUGH MY HANDS
did I understand what I said...

GOOF OFF
it was the ordinary hour...

PRACTICES
juxtaposed thoughts from separate days...

OUR DAYS
my brother in the tree...

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