ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS

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11 12 13 14 15
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  keyword(s) in poems:

Sequence: 20

untitled
you know who...


THE GREAT WORKS
Reading one of the Great Works that you find annoying, you ...


SILENCE/WORLD
the silence is never a silence...


FRIGHTENED BY MY BOOKS AGAIN
they have in them many words to read...


12/13/12
the squrrels' efforts...


THIS LIFE
less led than lost...


FIRST SNOW
one might imagine Adam...


12/26/12
the wind moves along...


NOTES TO BEGIN WITH
noon on new year's day...


AFTERTHOUGHT
silence...


UNDERSTANDING EACH OTHER
the word for food...


STILLED FOREVER
the body of a mouse...


A CYCLOPS EXPLAINS TO A STRANGER POLYPHEMUS' HOWLS
every so often one of us here goes crazy ...


CONTINUATION
even zero has a hard time with nothing...


REGISTERED
from some abandoned clock comes...


DRIVER
are you still driving...


ABOUT THE FAMOUS COUNTRY
the leaves cover it...


NOT YET
not yet ready to write you...


A THOUGHT
the alley floor is cracked...


2/23/13
last weeks of winter...


REPETITION
those who in their agony of loss...


WAYS HE TRAVELS
the hastening traveler panting along the ways...


PERHAPS POSSIBLE
watch ...


STORM FORECAST
moss light under trees...


REPITITION II
die of grief make another grief...


ONLY AT NIGHT
only at night can I really see...


I KNOW WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE
the trembling you see...


REPITITION III
make another grief...


THE READER
the pages I turn sketch...


WONDERFUL
at the doctor's office...


LANDSCAPE WITH TWO MEN
in dark clothes walking over the year's...


REPETITION IV
...


4/29/13
barely light...


EVEN SO
a picture of least importance...


SAYING MORE
cold air on my skin as it leaves me alert pleases...


NEWS
the shamed man...


5/26/13
a penny drops on the floor...


IT RIDDLES
it isn't memory...


STORY
limbs of the tree gone astray...


JUST TO BE CLEAR
nothing wants to know...


SEEING
rain-centered region...


COMPARE AND CONTRAST
there is never just one crow...


I STILL ACHE
the little things said...


THE DIFFERENCE
an off-white sky...


PLAYING AGAIN
a store of chords held in the fingers laid...


THE TOWN
the town with its mildly hilly north side...


TO YOU
if it often seems...


IN TIME
to arrive in time with some of what you've packed...


HIS INTENTION
He left, lying where I would be sure to see it, a little written...


1937
the Ohio in flood...


STONE SYMPATHY
this large rock in the abandoned field...


ANOTHER KIND OF WIND I REMEMBER
the whirlwinds that used to come...


DREAMS
That was childhood, when I believed anyone could fly if they ...


WHAT THEY BUILD AND WHERE
they build their cities on the plain...


A PARTICULAR HEAVEN
after the end...


BORDERLANDS
In some of the places where boundaries meet there can be a ...


WHAT IT KNOWS
an invisible warning...


WHAT IF YOU WERE THAT MAN IN THE MIRROR?
no thoughts or feelings within you...


IRONY WATER
the irony water I drank in youth...


MY LIFE DOES THE MATH
my life poorer by a day...

3x5 SNAPSHOT

Five Buzzards on the lawn, all related to me. The black clothing
of the one in the middle hides all but her inscrutable face. 
Salome. Of the men, one is Doc, one is Alpha, one is John, one 
is Moses, who made popcorn for his people on the square in 
Wakarusa every Saturday. The town band playing, farmers selling 
from their wagons, children running screaming to and from the 
store with the soda fountain in back. It is full summer. A tree 
massy with leaves towers behind them, a dirt road runs nearby 
with more trees behind it thick enough to close off the horizon. 
The grass is worn where they stand, and there is a low white 
railing marking the edge of something--a parking area? a field 
where chldren play? a lot deeded to a church for a graveyard? It 
is a summer day. The weather is fine. They have survived one 
century and stand sturdily in the next. They are there on 
another day of the absence of those many who were old when they 
were young and tried to explain the exact mix of sternness and 
gentleness necessary for life. It is only a photograph, not 
reality, the present moment. But they know that, photography or 
not, any moment of the moments we've had can come back, that 
they all continue just because they once were, even if the 
snapshot is lost, the people long gone, no one to remember, no 
story to tell.