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...

FROM THE TRAIN


Tom, when the red light blinking
warns the horizon is going off,
dive for cover. When the children
of ignorance curse morning,
bury yourself in the mountains

and come out by the sea.
Gulls belly the waves or cry
their hunger like wares for sale
in the street. Swallows have nothing
for coin except their flashy dives.
To the seals, it's all a circus

anyway, especially the people,
crossing and recrossing on the laden
ferries, inexhaustible. A circle of sticks
in the sand of an ancient ceremony
waits for you, as it did for me.
Sails wave like hands
above blue welcome.

When the train headed East
takes on night, close your eyes
and reach for your heart. In Montana,
rising clouds are called fallen clouds, and no matter
how fast you spin, some piece
of horizon is always watching
the back of your head. Distance
and silence are the same, did I tell you?

So I come back to you
by the mile and by the word.
I call you my fallen cloud,
so you will rise and hover
just over my head, close
enough to touch. When the rain
comes down like a long-awaited traveller,
open your eyes like lightening and your hands
like cups that want at once to be full.