ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 3

BE DIGITAL
and believe what falls between your fingers...


DAYLIGHT FARM SUPPLY
wet lawns along the river...


ASKING FOR HELP
the one I want...


BYE BYE
to be commanded to sit down...


HEAVEN AND HELL
Understand me: I was the boy...


MY FACE IN THE MIRROR
what have you done...


MESSAGE
there is a line...


ALERT
televangelists and...


ANNOUNCEMENT
the modern boat is sinking!...


NO MISTAKES
understand me: I am the musician...


FINDING
my eyes if I should lose them...


LOVE POEM
sh! the poet is sleeping...


AFTER
the crowd without its beggar...


AGAINST IMMORTALITY
I don't want to live forever...


ADJUST
At last the flow of water has changed:...


PROTESTANT MEMORY
to keep myself from crying...


DOWNPOUR
the cats come in...


RELIGIOUS SCENE
on the wall of the steakhouse...


ON MY CARPET
he calls it his...


APPEAL
your honors...


SONG OF CONFESSION
my heart a poisoned well...


DRIVING
the black femur...


INTERSECTION
the corner of lost memory...


FIRST COLD DAY
in the back yard...


THEFT OF A LINE FROM SIMIC
dark night...


EXAMINATION
reading the heart's...


ABSURD
to say...


NEVER COMPLETE
bowing like a long-necked bird...


AS HE SHIFTS THEM
In the back pew of...


untitled
this poetry...


END OF THE EIGHTIES
the story takes...


12/31/91
outside in...


IN A CAR
we're in California...


MORNING INCIDENT
Getting up to let the cat in I felt myself growing weak,...


untitled
you wiped out...


4/3/92
a dream...


FAILING TO RECOGNIZE
even as it occurred...


ROCK PAINTING
the dance I did...


REFUSING TO UNDERSTAND
what comes from the dog's mouth...


NIGHTWORK
the secret government...


ODE TO THE FRIENDS OF POETRY
the friends of poetry...


LOCATION
rights and privileges...


SENSE OF AN ENDING
the last breath I...

HERE


Here where the alleys cross all the ground has been asphalted
over for parking behind the houses that have become businesses.
This used to be where children played, the plot of vegetables
was laid out, backyard chickens scratched. The twenties,
perhaps. "Ja-Da" reproduced phonographically floated outside
through the screen. And earlier? Horse hoof clops, buoyant
confidence of the Christians, class contention, the rail lines
coming to the center of town. Before that, grieving over the
Civil War that had been cheered forward from all the porches
around, soldiers parading away. And even before, taking over
from those who had been marched out of sight, saving an
occasional thought such as Indian Creek for them, otherwise
refusing to remember. And then those long millenia backward
we scarcely hope to know, the time before men when a shaggy
beast pressed a hoof here or a dragon strode. The time this
spot lay under the sea accumulating a fine dust of tiny bodies
into mud and then rock. And this spot was here when it was all
hot gasses or a space of nothing, this spot here where the
alleys cross.