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: 7

TRIPLE OUGHT
we have endured...


TURN OR BE TURNED
waking...


untitled
I am...


WEAK
my ill-rising...


FIRST DAY OF SPRING A BLIZZARD VISITS US
this last snow's weight and power...


BOOK OF THE DAY
a version of no corrections...


SNOWFALL
a cancel of...


HERE, YOU
valley of the powerless...


untitled
the minutes...


NOTES IN HIS OWN HAND
About the destroying condition....


NEIGHBORLY
our day...


untitled
out of the door...


JUST BARELY
here it is difficult...


untitled
quoted before I speak...


TRUE
time to notice...


POINT OUT
here is an impossibility...


COMPANY
there is a quiet before I speak...


HEARTENED
almost midnight...


IN PROCESS
giving thanks or sass...


CONTINUANCE
a face to look into for...


STRUGGLE TO UNDERSTAND
fresh tears...


PRAYER
heart made of dirt...


MONDAY
the call to remind me...


JUST LIKE ME
trying to move sideways...


HOW IT IS
the old smile...


THUNDERSTORM LIGHTNING FLASHES
the storm's welcome...


THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AT LEAST ONE PERSON
a shell game in which...


FOR THOSE LYING WAKEFUL AS IT STORMS
thunder off in the distance...


4/22/96
press of rain...


CONSCIOUSNESS
what grabs it...


CLEAR DARK
there should be...


untitled
see what...


START OF THE DAY
tight...


ADDRESSING YOU
if you are staring at me...


untitled
the strange diction...


untitled
3 a.m. an owl calls out...


WEATHER REPORT
showers and thundershowers...


NOTATION
I allow myself to be influenced. It is ...


WHEN YOU
arrive in ocean a wave arises inside you...


THEFT OF LINES FROM CERNUDA
Sleep...


10/20/96
my circles run through the woods...


untitled
held up my empty secrets...


THE FEELING OF IT
North begins hereabouts...


TIME TO GO
winter light...


A PLACE
it closes to them...


CLOSING MY EYES
as I die...


STORY ABOUT SAFETY
the wind up...


untitled
a voice in the room...


11/19/96
words rest...


untitled
clouds form...


POEM OF SLEEP
sky mists...


MUSIC
a music that makes me...


WHEN I READ
I read to keep steady...


SOS
the page shifts no rest a sea...


NOW REMEMBERING
the rain cuts...


CARRIED
I give up on my fingers...


HAWK
strong hunter...


OVER AND OUT
crossing over the creek bed...

STARTLED


I hadn't gone three steps before the mocking began. The bell
again, of course. Flutes blowing slowly, but the bell. From
its ringing, eyes looked out: the world was paper to them, and
the writing was something else. He spoke, and the spokes formed
a wheel around me. We could move forward or back up, my nature
as axle supported a black box appropriate for either movement.
The experienced world was not callous, though it had lost much
to its emptiness. Wider and wider, emptier and emptier. I saw
my experience and startled. I reflected on this and tried to
understand. He spoke again, this time about grief and its connec-
tion to the growing emptiness. After gravity, after vibration,
grief will be the last force at work. Very soft light this mor-
ning, the eastern cedars green wherever they get a chance, brown
otherwise, or gray. I will never understand what I did by living.
A choice could be made, wood of the trees fashioned into boats,
the wide inward-to-outward sea, steel on board to cut with or
build. Voices over the water, no echoes, the song disperses
ahead of us, will we find it on the shore that catches us? Or
it may go on ahead, following the rivers up to the mountains,
their marble revealed, something always too hard and upward to
gain, but the echoes! at last, shod in our troubles, they come
back to us.