ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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6 7 8 9 10
11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20

  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 17

THE PROMISE
We live without distinction, keeping up...

RESTATEMENT
the stream breaking on the rocks...

GO TO LEONARD SPRINGS
walk past the gush and then...

WINGED HOUR
swallows' multiple flights...

PARALLEL LIVES
one world...

I MEAN
the clocks do not tire of themselves...

DRAWN ON
now that the shadow deepens...

TO ERIC
You appeal often to Reason as if...

untitled
the stone says...

8/25/09
it was hot like this...

SUMMER IS ENDING
the evenings draw off together...

DOUBLES
there are two rocks in my woods...

9/8/09
towers and arms of the wind farm...

GHOST
what is a ghost?...

A STORY OF COMING TO AND LEAVING THIS PLACE
the crossing is marked by the feet...

untitled
when we leave...

TIMES OF SUN AND CLOUDS
morning half full of sun...

KEEPING A PIECE OF BLUE
in this wind the trees throw...

THEFT OF LINES FROM SPICER AND BOBROWSKI
the river flowing in curves...

10/12/09
moon...

AUTOBIOGRAPHY VOL. IV
we had been told many things...

OH IT'S YOU
pardon me...

BLOWING IN
trees shaking their heads in the wind...

untitled
one's thin shadow...

GRIEVERS AND GLEANERS
the grievers and the gleaners...

11/1/09
last night's moon so full...

VARIATION ON A THEME
well after midnight...

LOOKING AT A FLY
how far back to our common ancestor?...

BUILT WELL
the temples...

WHERE WE MAKE OUR HOMES
the light turns its edge towards us...

LISTEN LEARN
the flames flying...

THE GODS
when the gods remember...

ROUTINE
Every morning, coming out of sleep into ...

SHAKING THE MIRROR
I hold the mirror with both hands...

I WROTE A POEM
that's enough for one week...

BLACKWING CROW
feet tight around the branch...

ECHO
blackwing crow...

WINTER CROWS HOUSE SILENCE
winter gnawing on bones...

IDEA FOR A POEM
as it has overtaken us...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM WHITMAN: THIS WINTER
five thousand games of solitaire...

COMMENTARY
the spider is history...

WHERE IT GOES
west of the west...

ONE BY ONE
inamorata...

untitled
through all the storms as light fell to halflight...

HE TOLD ME
it won't hurt you...

THE ORDER OF THINGS
last night's flood gone...

ALL SOLITUDES ARE THE SAME
All the solitudes. Each keeps to ...

STONECRUSHER
I went back to the roads I grew up on and walked daily...

RELATIONSHIP
oh words...

TAKE STEPS
steps...

MEANS
what means love...

THE SPILL
we can talk about the spill...

THIS IS THE EIGHTH ATTEMPT
no help coming from my former self...

MUCH
the weight I had at five...

SLEEPING IN THE RAIN
drawing a circle...

INSIDE
a craving in our hands...

TIME
back and forth back and forth...

SO FAR AS I CAN AGAIN
the trees at night stretch out...

NAPPER'S MOTTO
every action requires strength...

AUTOBIOGRAPHY VOL. V
I disappeared...

8/10/10
a dry touch strokes the land...

IT WILL WAKE
the drunken species...

ROUTINE


Every morning, coming out of sleep into the stark surprise of
day, having roamed all night outside of myself in the empty
familiarity of dreams, I must put my self back into myself.
Before I get out of bed, almost before I blink my eyes. There
is a moment at first light, as I am about to do this, poised
between an emptiness and the not-yet-full, when I am no one.
In these few seconds, no one has his entire day.

     no one opens his eyes and listens
     no one stumbles downstairs
     no one takes in the news
     no one eats when he is hungry
     this will be repeated throughout the day
     no one cleans himself and heads to work
     no one works
     no one works till after dark
     no one goes home tired
     no one passes the time for a few hours
     a friend of no one calls sometimes
     no one has his accomplishments of the day to recall
     no one is ready for bed
     no one sleeps and may or may not dream
     and if he does dream may or may not remember
     no one's body stirs as the night pales away
     no one is willing to wake
     no one must become himself again
     but for a moment before he does
     no one is no one


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