ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 13

HAVING FOLLOWED MY HEART TILL ITS
give me...

EXPLANATION
gravity's open mouth...

THE RAIN
if it was going to happen...

TWO MEN
the man bending over sweeping dust...

10/1/04
a silence has come into the cornfields...

CERTAINTY
what lies beneath gravity...

untitled
it takes courage...

ITS USE
I turn and pick up...

WHEN WE LIVE
the world drops...

HANDS
I look in my hands...

10/26/04
while the fields are browning...

AFTER THE GREEN HAS GONE
rain through the trees...

HARVESTS AND STONE
surrounded by harvests...

FROM MY DIARY
early long lines...

FIRST WEEK OF NOVEMBER
the sky crowded with gray...

POEM WITH QUESTION MARKS
turn around at the warning sign?...

IN THE GREAT BEWILDERMENT
just as in a set of words...

11/14/04
moth so small it nearly escapes notice...

CODA
moth so small it nearly escapes notice...

STARTLED
I hadn't gone three steps before the mocking began. The bell...

LOOKING BACK
we die of everything...

TOWARDS SOLSTICE
this long night no dark...

POINTS IN THE VAST
in this dark you see...

TO DEAD PLANETS
this cold house...

MY SNOW JOURNEY
just keep walking...

LATE WINTER
my stiff legs on these winter stairs...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM STEVENS
looking up at the cloud covered sky...

HOMELAND
our inland waters slide...

SECURITY
on the way to...

2/18/05
seen from the shadow side...

CERTAIN ONES HAVE SHOWN
their heads through the dirt...

SOME EVENTS
some flakes on the way down stopped by...

untitled
what...

COLD BLUE
of the jay's back...

SIGHT
between one minute before...

untitled
that look he had...

DOWNSLOPE
the years grown...

EQUIVALENCE
in a mirror...

LOOKED UP
the dark wing...

CROWS
the call wordless...

3/29/05
the day made dimmer...

ITS FIELDS
green wing of the hill...

TO HOME
the country you came from...

THE GREAT COLLECTION
seen in weak light riding...

IT'S SENTIMENTAL BUT TRUE, I LOVE THE SPRING
branches...

THOUGH I STARTED TO SAY THEIR
I should have said...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM BLY
cold morning but he hardly noticed...

4/20/05
white hands of the dogwood...

IF GOD IS LOVE
and love is a consuming force...

ONCE AND AGAIN
the statues are not statues...

THERE
in that place...

7/4/05
the sun behind my back lights...

AFTER COMPLAINING FOR DAYS OF THE HEAT
rain and cooler weather...

IT'S TOO HOT IN THE HOUSE
I'll sweat in the shade outside...

HISTORY
once we could hear each other...

JULY
the green trees...

untitled
after rising...

WOODS: ZONE


where loneliness finds itself
casting shadows
and so is it alone?
each solitude stretching
a relation to other solitudes

best seen in winter the white defeat
over which the long stripes
laid by treetrunks reach
just after sunup
to touch each other's feet

oh there are blue snowfields
on the north and west facing slopes
that won't carry shadows
from one trunk to another
but the blue proves
it it is the mood
they all share on that face

or when it is so cold it kills
the silence is shared between them
and the woodpecker's knocking
breaks and confirms it

and the young maple
shooting up into the arms
of the larger older oak
so its trunk touches a branch
makes when the wind pushes
a sound from the two rubbing
like the creak of a bird
or an animal call or
the noise a shadow
would make at contact