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: 9

SPECULATION
the possession of life...


TO COUNT FOR WHAT
eyes scrape the borderland of no...


WHERE I AM/HAVE BEEN
our decisions are so small...


VIEW OF EARTH FROM MY HOUSE
stars out a light breeze...


MY FIRST LANGUAGE
alive in this time...


10/20/97
steadily consuming the purple-sweetness...


POSTCARD
I write to you from...


HERE
the beast and the waves...


LYRIC
moving through the dark...


APPLICATION
please send more poems...


IN THE DARK
friends the dark as much as you...


FOOTNOTE TO IN THE DARK
those who disappeared while still alive...


NOVEMBER
cold weather settles me...


WITHOUT CLOTHES
the right temperature for singing...


TO THE ASIAN MARKETS
we can be proud of our success...


3/1/98
the sunday walk a path...


REFUSAL TO MAKE MUSIC
I have lost my ears the silence is so large in them...


WEDNESDAY MORNING
with the sudden cold...


MY WINDOW
wonderful day...


untitled
sun flees we pursue...


MY WISHES
steady hand...


ON HIS WORK
bright from the roots...


THE LAST TIME I WAS AT YOUR HOUSE
while I snorted and rolled over...


untitled
sun's careful stroking breaks the frost...


untitled
there were some the wind dried some...


untitled
sun slant the wind dies moist...


FOLLOWING
the laws of migration over the ground...


HOW IT HAS BEEN
half dark or near dark...


THE TASK
There is a god or goddess for first ...


THINGS THAT ARE AND ARE NOT POEMS
things that kill us...


FRAGMENT
Doesn't. And complies again, removes the robe, there is the soft...


DREAMED OF MY EX-WIFE
We were selling a house back to the couple we had bought it from....


GRUMBLE
no other life has been given me...


11/1/98
the world sleeps...


THEFT OF A LINE FROM LALIC
a weight of fire brought home...


untitled
in another dream a pickled man...


AFTER HOURS
red flare west through the trees...


WHERE I STAND WITH HIM
a gift of storms bursts open...


DANCE OF LOVE
I couldn't touch the dancers' radiance...


DECEIVED MYSELF THINKING
of a poetry only...

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.